


They Made Their Own Nightmare

by TurboToast



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Fluff, Foul Language, People getting shot, Romance, Slow-ish burn, Widowtracer, tracemaker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 05:59:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9421595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurboToast/pseuds/TurboToast
Summary: The words of a certain British member of Overwatch make Widowmaker question everything: Her job as a Talon assassin, her lack of memories and feelings, her role in this world. The walls around her mind are falling fast, and Talon is in serious trouble. Their creation is coming for them.





	1. Awakening

It had already been some time since she had her last proper adrenaline rush. The aftermath of her work was clearly visible as a huge golden statue in front of the Alderworth Hotel in King’s Row, London. Amélie Lacroix, also known as Widowmaker, Talon’s deadliest assassin, was standing on the balcony of The Meridian hotel, directly opposite of the site of one of her finest kills to date. Widowmaker recalled the memories of that fateful night one more time, as she scoped out the venue again for the next step in Talon’s plans. Clad appropriately for the typical London mix of rain and wind in a burgundy turtleneck and skinny jeans, armed not with Widow’s Kiss but with a giant DSLR camera, she could easily pass for a more photographically inclined tourist with a skin condition.  
  
While she scanned the rooftops for possible vantage points, she remembered how her cold, blue finger squeezed around the trigger, launching the firing pin inside her trusty rifle against the primer of the cartridge that propelled a streamlined slug of metal straight through Tekhartha Mondatta’s central processing unit. She grinned faintly at the thought of how even that annoying Overwatch agent couldn’t stop her from carrying out her lethal mission and how that ditzy Brit desperately tried to understand why she did it.  
  
Ever since she had been reconditioned, she didn’t need a reason to kill. The exhilarating sensation was enough for her, probably because everything else felt numbed down. If she could feel sad about that, she probably would. Interferences like sudden attacks from ex-Overwatch agents were merely a nuisance that she needed to work around to get her dose of dopamine.  
  
“ _Merde_ ,” she muttered to herself, “I let myself get distracted again.”  
  
“Mind if I ask you by what exactly, luv?” a familiar voice chirped in an unmistakable cockney accent.  
  
Widowmaker lowered her camera. Slightly to the left of her, the nuisance who crossed her memory a moment ago was leaning nonchalantly on the balustrade, looking at her with a beaming grin.  
  
“Oi, talk to me!”  
  
Lena ‘Tracer’ Oxton was the name of the short British girl with the spiky brown hair and happy-go-lucky attitude who almost spoiled Widowmaker’s fun that one night and who was now cockily trying to strike up a conversation with the woman who tried to kill her.  
  
“You must be out of your mind, _chérie_ … You do realize I could kill you in a hundred ways right here, _non_?” Widowmaker finally responded coolly.  
  
She couldn’t quite wrap her head around the fact that someone who had a firm spot on her kill list just walked up to her, seemingly unafraid.  
  
“Oh, not at all, luv… See, ever since our little squabble, security around here has gotten a teensy bit tighter. Not to mention all the people around here. You probably wouldn’t get very far.”  
  
She did have a point there.  
  
“Alrighty, where were we, Amélie?” Tracer continued. “That’s your real name, innit?”  
  
At the mention of that name, Widowmaker sharply inhaled, shifting her weight from one leg to the other.  
  
“That woman is long dead.”  
  
“Are you sure about that? Because you sure look like her in blue… Still bloody gorgeous, if you don’t mind me sayin’ that!”  
  
Widowmaker chuckled, partly in an effort to overplay her confusion about the motives of the quirky young woman.  
  
“I’m sure you didn’t get yourself into mortal danger to compliment me on my appearance… _Alors,_ why don’t you tell me what you want?” Widowmaker wasn’t exactly comfortable having a casual chat with the enemy in broad daylight.  
  
Tracer didn’t seem to mind at all, which didn’t exactly help.  
  
“Right-o! So Angie told me about you and your story. I think you’re really interesting and attractive and all, and I think that goes to waste with you killing innocent people. What I want to know is: Why do you do it? I keep asking myself that after our little encounter and I don’t get it.”  
  
Widowmaker stiffened up. She had never explained that to anyone before, but she saw no harm in answering the question. After all, this was the first time anyone was ever really interested in her in a long time.  
  
“It’s the only way I really feel anything anymore. The rush of the kill is just… _magnifique_. It makes me feel alive…” She wallowed in the memories of her last kill again.  
  
“Alright, but why do you kill the wrong people, then? You might think you’re a monster, but even your skills could be put to good use,” Tracer blurted out, seemingly unfazed by the enemy telling her that she killed for the rush.  
  
The Brit was right. Angered by the fact that she hadn’t thought of that before, Widowmaker lost her patience.  
  
“ _Tais-toi!_ You don’t know anything about me! _Dégage!_ ” she hissed.  
  
“Whew, looks like I caught ya on the hop! ‘S alright, I’ll make myself scarce then. I’ll be around if ya want to have a cuppa, give it some thought. The world could always use more heroes! See ya!”  
  
With a sloppy salute, Tracer jogged off and barely caught the bus leaving in front of the hotel. Widowmaker was left angry, confused and somewhat dumbfounded.

* * *

 

Widowmaker didn’t sleep well the following nights. Her already unhealthy skin tone turned just a bit paler. She didn’t leave her room in that shady model near Elephant and Castle much, and if she did, she avoided King’s Row studiously. Her mind was spinning around two things: firstly, she felt something other than the dopamine rush after a successful elimination, and secondly, she wondered if she really was a monster. The former filled her with relief and a hint of happiness. Endless gray days of waiting for the next kill were interrupted by feelings she hadn’t felt in a short eternity. The latter caused her grief.  
  
She questioned her loyalty to Talon for the first time, and she concluded that she hated the people who made her kill her husband. Widowmaker realized that her morbid talents could serve the greater good if they were directed at the right targets. This made her hate herself as well, because she had been killing without remorse, ending lives of people who made the lives of many much better.  
  
She made a decision. She was a killer, yes, a very good one, too, but she didn’t want to use her skills for the wrong reasons anymore. Talon was treating her like an attack dog and not like a person. Had she ever questioned her orders, she was sure she had been punished and newly ‘reconditioned’, and that was something she never wanted to feel again. The decision to defect came easier than she would have expected.  
  
“ _Merveilleux!”_ she said in a honeyed voice, happy with herself.  
  
The next Talon mission was scheduled next week, so that bought her a little time to plan her escape. Luckily, she knew a certain annoying Brit who could help her with that.

 

* * *

 

Widowmaker stepped out of the bus in front of the Meridian Hotel. She was still wearing the same sweater and jeans combo she had been wearing when she was scouting. People were looking at her funny, as it was an unusually hot Sunday for London standards. She didn’t give it much thought. Usually, she cared a lot about her appearance, but today she had more important things to worry about. She was just about to enter the lobby of the Meridian Hotel, when she was ripped out of her thoughts by the lively voice of Lena Oxton.  
  
“Cheers, luv, over here!”  
  
Widowmaker turned her head and was happy to see Tracer waving at her.  
  
The Frenchwoman froze. _Why am I happy? How can I be happy?_ she wondered. Tracer, clad in black flats and knee socks, jean hot pants held up with suspenders and a loosely fitting white shirt that was illuminated from the inside by the chronal accelerator, was now walking over to her. She was noticeably relieved that Widowmaker finally decided to take her up on her offer.  
  
“Hello there, gorgeous! You with me? Off we go then, I know a place where we can have a little chat!” Tracer dragged her past the big Mondatta statue into the alleys.  
  
Widowmaker followed, covering her mouth with one hand. While she was being towed through the streets of London, Tracer showered her with facts about the neighborhood, but she couldn’t listen. Her thoughts were in turmoil. Where did these feeling come from, and why now, why not earlier? Before she could get too involved in that thought, Miss Oxton stopped.  
  
“Aaaand we’ve arrived! After you, madame!” she chirped, while she held open the door of a pub by the name of The Fox and the Bear.  
  
Widowmaker quietly stepped inside, closely followed by Tracer. They were greeted by a grumpy, bearded barkeeper.  
  
“Hello, ladies,” he grumbled.  
  
As he looked up and recognized Tracer, he lightened up.  
  
“Ah, how’s it going, lass? Go right through, the others are waiting!” He gestured towards a door to the right of the bar and continued polishing glasses.  
  
“Thanks, mate! What’s the matter, Amélie? You’ve been awfully quiet today…” Tracer looked at her new companion with a worried look on her face.  
  
Widowmaker - no, Amélie - removed the hand from her mouth, revealing a big grin. When did that name stop bothering her?  
  
“Oh, Miss Oxton, I am so… how do you say… overwhelmed! All these feelings, they’re coming back to me and I can’t help but to smile!” The usually so calm and elegant Frenchwoman was shaking with excitement.  
  
Miss Oxton jumped for joy, hugged a surprised Amélie and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Aww, that’s brilliant, love! I knew you weren’t a lost cause! Now c’mon, Angela and Fareeha are waiting!”  
  
The wide smile on Widowmaker’s lips slowly faded and she lowered her head. Guilt was welling up inside her. “I don’t know how I can face Overwatch after what I have done. They’re going to hate me…” she said, close to tears.  
  
Tracer put her hands on Amélie’s shoulders.  
  
“It’s going to be okay. They don’t hate you. In fact, they miss you a lot. Let’s go.” Tracer tried her best to comfort the sniffling woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Translations:
> 
> Merde - shit  
> Alors - so  
> magnifique - magnificent  
> Tais-toi - shut up  
> Dégage - Fuck off!  
> Merveilleux - wonderful
> 
>  
> 
> ### Notes:
> 
> This is my first attempt at fanfiction and the first time I've written anything with a story since 8th grade. I'd really appreciate feedback. A few more chapters are already lined up, but not ready to publish yet. Also, English isn't my first language. I consider myself to be somewhat proficient, but every now and then I could make mistakes that I don't spot before posting. Feel free to alert me if you find one.


	2. No turning back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings are overwhelming and difficult to deal with for someone who has been mercilessly killing for the rush.

“Hiya!” Miss Oxton cheerily greeted her friends.  
  
Dr. Angela ‘Mercy’ Ziegler was sitting on Fareeha ‘Pharah’ Amari’s lap. The blonde Doctor stood up. “Hallo, Spatz,” she said.  
  
Pharah just waved. As Amélie came in, Angela hugged her tightly.  
  
“Good to see you, Schätzchen. We missed you dearly.”  
  
As Angela loosened her embrace, Pharah introduced herself.  
  
“So this is the woman I was warned about. Nice to meet you, I’m Fareeha Amari. You can call me Fareeha or Pharah, whatever you like best.”  
  
The tall Egyptian shook Amélie’s hand firmly with a stern look on her face.  
  
“I… I’m A… Amélie Lacroix. _Je suis désolée_ , I still have to get used to being called by that name.”  
  
Tears suddenly rolled down her cheeks. Pharah let the doctor handle this. She wasn’t too skilled in comforting crying snipers. Angela pulled a chair back and handed Amélie a tissue.  
  
“Sit down, Liebes. It’s okay to cry,” she said soothingly, before looking over to Lena, who was standing frozen, not knowing what to do.  
  
She mouthed at her to fetch something to drink. In a flash, Lena returned, a big mug of hot chocolate in her hand. She sat down next to Amélie and put the mug on the table before her. Amélie looked up, sobbing.  
  
“I killed so many… And yet… I don’t deserve this…” She glanced at the worried Brit beside her with teary golden eyes.  
  
“It’s okay, darling. Nobody’s blaming you. That was all Talon. And we’re going to make ‘em pay for it. But now, your chocolate’s getting cold,” Tracer said in an untypically calm fashion, putting her arm around her new protégée’s shoulders.  
  
Amélie straightened up, wiped her tears and nipped at her hot chocolate before taking a big sip.  
  
“This is really good. _Merci_ ,” she said, her voice still slightly shaky.  
  
There were a few moments of silence and chocolate-sipping before Angela began to speak.  
  
“As nice and calm as it is now, it won’t stay that way unless we do something about Talon. They’re going to want their sniper back and they’re obviously planning something if Amélie here was scoping the place out.”  
  
She now addressed Amelie directly. “Schätzchen, we want to help you, but we need your help to do that. Please share as much information as you can.”  
  
Widowmaker put her mug down. “ _Avec plaisir,_ “ she said with a serious expression.  
  
There was no turning back now. If she went back to Talon now, they would probably torture her and let her die slowly. She didn’t plan on dying, but she was going to get her revenge for what they did to her.  
  
“They are planning an EMP strike to the underground Omnic colony around the block. The bomb is to be charged in a garage at the Mondatta statue and then detonated right in the center of the facility. It’s quite big, so they wanted me to watch over them and make sure it reaches its destination. The explosion will take place the day after tomorrow at 9 PM.” She spilled it all without hesitation and it felt right.  
  
Betraying Talon was easier than she had thought.  
  
“There you have it. What now?” she asked, leaning back.  
  
“First of all, thanks a lot. That was very helpful. You might have just saved a lot of lives.” Pharah had a sincere smile on her lips now. “Secondly,” she added, “we’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at the old gas station opposite your motel.” The Egyptian security officer put a small rectangular device on the table. “I want you to keep this close until further notice. It’s a close-range GPS jammer. We don’t want Talon to know you’re operating on our side now.”  
  
Widowmaker promptly put it in her pocket. She didn’t know if she was being monitored at all, but it would only make sense.  
  
“That would be all. See you tomorrow at eight!” Pharah said.  
  
She stood up and offered her arm to Angela, who said goodbye herself. “Have a good night’s sleep. Doctor’s orders! Bis morgen!”  
  
The two women left arm in arm. Lena rubbed Amélies shoulder before standing up.  
  
“Well, that must be a lot to process… Alright, I’ll take my leave then. Can’t wait to have you with us. Bye!”  
  
And with that, the young brunette was gone. Amélie sat for a few minutes before getting up herself. As she walked past the barkeeper, he stopped her.  
  
“You seem to be havin’ a rough day, lady. I made you another hot chocolate if you want.”  
  
He pushed another big mug over the counter towards her. She took it and drank it empty in one go. “ _Merci_. It’s a strange drink for a hot day, but I appreciate it. _Au revoir!_ ” she said putting the mug down before walking out of the door.  
  
She should probably have asked for directions to the nearest bus stop.

* * *

 

Amélie Lacroix slept like a rock. She had packed her rifle, uniform, and headgear neatly into her suitcase and went to bed early. Everything was ready for the next morning. Was she ready herself? She didn’t know. The prospect of meeting so many new people she had only seen through her scope before was daunting, but exciting at the same time.  
  
She really needed this deep slumber after many days and nights of restlessness. She even had a dream for the first time in years. A face was looking at her with spiky brown hair, deep chestnut eyes, and a sparkling grin.  
  
Amélie was up and out of bed before her alarm even considered the possibility of ringing. She took a quick shower and threw on a figure hugging ash gray summer dress and some expensive looking ankle boots before checking out and heading straight for the gas station across the street.  
  
“ _Voyage, voyage,_ ” she hummed. She was in a good mood today.  
  
The old gas station was run down and hadn’t been used in years. Cars ran on electricity now and in this part of town knocking it down was too expensive to be worth it. It was plastered with posters and graffiti and the windows were boarded up. A white van was parked behind the car wash. The front seats were turned around and there was lively chatter inside. The big hulking guy in the driver’s seat had to be Reinhardt, the human tank who had blocked Amélie’s shot countless times. He looked almost comical in the car, making it look like it had shrunk in the wash. Next to him, a short brunette with long hair and bright pink headphones around her neck was sitting with her arms crossed. Amélie had seen her face on eSports posters downtown a few times. Hana ‘D.Va’ Song was her name. When she wasn’t decimating noobs online, she piloted a Korean battle mech. Apparently, she had joined Overwatch. Compared to Talon, Overwatch was a remarkably diverse group of People.  
  
When she couldn’t immediately spot Tracer, the sniper’s mood dropped a little. She knocked on the passenger side sliding door anyway.  
  
“ _Bonjour_!” she greeted melodiously.  
  
The door flew open, revealing a broad British smile. “And top o’ the mornin to you, luv! Miss me?”  
  
Ba-bump.  
  
Of course she had been watching through the tinted rear windows. Amélie blushed, turning her cheeks slightly pink.  
  
“C’mon, swing your long blue stems in here, we have quite the to-do list today.” As Lena noticed her blush, she smiled even wider.  
  
_Ba-bump_ .  
  
Amélie stopped dead in her tracks.  
  
She remembered the dream she had last night.  
  
Her heart started beating faster around Lena.  
  
She was happy to see Lena.  
  
Lena was obviously happy to see her and she frequently complimented her. _Could it be?_ , Amélie thought to herself. This wasn’t ordinary happiness. This was more, something she hadn’t felt since she met Gérard.  
  
“Not enough coffee? Don’t worry, I can make a pot for you when we arrive.” A gravelly voice with a thick German accent pulled her out of her thoughts. Reinhardt was surprisingly friendly for someone with his looks and demeanor on the battlefield. Still flustered, she paused for a few seconds before answering.  
  
“I-I’m just going to put this in the trunk,” she stammered, pointing at her suitcase, before taking a deep breath and opening the hatch.  
  
When she returned from the rear of the vehicle somewhat calmer, she sat down in the empty seat next to Lena, crossed her legs neatly and put on her seatbelt.  
  
“Shall we have some introductions?” she asked, looking around. “I’ll start. I’m Amélie Lacroix, codename ‘Widowmaker’, apparently now ex-Talon sniper. Nice to meet you.”  
  
Reinhardt laughed heartily. “Alright, my name is Reinhardt Wilhelm. I’m a crusader and an old man. At your service!” he roared.  
  
He shook Amélie’s hand carefully. D.Va made a gum bubble pop.  
  
“Yo, I’m Hana,” she said, “pro gamer and mech pilot. Nice shoes!”  
  
The young Korean winked at her and popped another bubble. Lena put on a serious face, but she couldn’t keep it up very long.  
  
“Hi, I’m Lena Oxton, codename ‘Tracer’, ex-pilot, and savior of a damsel in distress! You can call me Lena” she joked, before starting to giggle.  
  
Amélie chuckled and decided to play along. “ _Enchantée_ , Lena,” she cooed, shaking the Brit’s hand softly and fluttering her eyelids.  
  
Lena’s face flushed and the whole van shook with laughter. 

* * *

 

The white van came to a stop in front of the abandoned mall that was built inside the old Battersea power station a decade ago. It had been a place bursting with life, but in the Omnic crisis half of it was destroyed and the company running it went bankrupt.  
  
Reinhardt and Lena got out of the car quickly - he took the luggage out of the trunk and Lena said something about needing to see Winston when she sped off. Hana and Amélie walked to the entrance together.  
  
“Is she always like this?” Amélie asked.  
  
“The goofiness? Yeah. The flirtatiousness? Nah, that’s new. By the way, it was her idea to try and get you out of Talon.” Hana didn’t seem to mind giving her answers.  
  
“Were there people against helping me? I still have to get used to everyone being so friendly.” Amélie asked carefully.  
  
She didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. At Talon, nobody cared for the well-being of anyone. She had only two choices there: follow orders or die.  
  
“Well, Morrison only agreed with the condition that you would tell us Talon’s plans, and he was still reluctant to even offer you to join, so there’s that,” the mech pilot answered. “I guess Ana’s with him on that one.”  
  
“They’re still alive? That’s news to me… Considering that I… shot Ana the last time I met her. What about you?”  
  
Amélie was surprised and relieved that Ana Amari was still alive, she had shot her right through the eye. Nine hundred and ninety-nine people out of a thousand would have died instantly.  
  
Last night, she’d chosen that she wanted to be a person and not a monster, and one thing that divides people from monsters is that people socialize while monsters don’t. For this reason, she tried her best to show interest in other people and their feelings, which wasn’t very easy considering her own feelings had just come back a few days prior.  
  
“I was warned about you, but I think you’re cool. You haven’t been an ass yet and you haven’t tried to kill me, so as long as you keep this up we’re good. I’m simple like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Translations:
> 
> Spatz - sparrow (often used as a nickname in German)  
> Schätzchen - little treasure (also a German nickname)  
> Je suis désolée - I'm sorry  
> Liebes - dear  
> Avec plaisir - with pleasure  
> Bis morgen - See you tomorrow  
> Merci - Thank you  
> Au revoir - goodbye  
> Voyage voyage - A french pop song by Desireless from 1996  
> Bonjour - Hello  
> Enchantée - delighted
> 
>  
> 
> ### Notes:
> 
> There's some bonus PharMercy content in here for you to enjoy. It felt wrong for those two not to be together...


	3. Welcoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People you shoot tend to hold grudges more often than not. A scientist gorilla makes an appearance and Amélie gets a checkup from a Swiss doctor.

The two women arrived at a huge rotating glass door. It had a few cracks and bullet holes but was still working as intended. As they entered, Hana excused herself, leaving Amélie alone with her welcoming committee. At the top of the grand old escalator stood Jack Morrison, his arms crossed, along with Angela and Ana Amari. Ana’s daughter, Fareeha, leaned against a guardrail off to the side.  
  
Angela smiled reassuringly and Fareeha gave Amélie a short nod, but the atmosphere remained tense. Amélie just wanted to do something to break the silence, when Morrison finally spoke.  
  
“So this is the infamous ‘Widowmaker’,” he said, his voice much rougher than Amélie remembered it.  
  
She did remember it.  
  
“Look, I don’t particularly enjoy having a Talon agent around, but it’s good to see you again. Somehow. Welcome to the temporary Overwatch headquarters, Madame Lacroix. Tracer and Winston want to see you in the ‘lab’. There’ll be a briefing at 1330 in the, uh, living room department.” He turned around and left without waiting for a response.  
  
Being stared at by Ana, Amélie wasn’t sure if she could just walk up the stairs. She looked at Pharah, who winked at her, looked at her mother and said “Mooom!”  
  
Ana snapped out of her gaze and her sharp gray brows relaxed.  
  
“You’re right, Fareeha, I’m sorry.”  
  
The one-eyed woman extended a hand to Amélie. “I’m not sure I can forgive the woman who shot me. I sure as hell can’t forgive the woman who killed hundreds of innocents. But that woman wasn’t you. That was a puppet of Talon. So if you want to join us and help us rid the earth of that organization, you’re very welcome to stay.”  
  
Amélie froze for a moment. This wasn’t at all what she expected from the fellow sniper. She had expected hatred and rejection. Ana still held her hand out. Amélie took a deep breath, walked up the broken escalator and firmly grabbed it.  
  
“Honestly, I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.”  
  
Only from this distance, Amélie could see that Ana’s right eye had not been replaced. Ana laughed coarsely.  
  
“Oh, the eye? It’s okay, I’m still a better shot than you.” She turned around and started walking towards what looked like the former culinary department.  
  
“One more thing: I don’t think Jack has really accepted you yet, but don’t worry. I’ll watch your back.”  
  
Amélie stood at the top of the escalator unsure of what just happened when Pharah and Angela approached.  
  
“That went better than expected. She was totally against you yesterday. Hi,” Pharah greeted.  
  
“I was prepared for death stares and yelling. _Quelle belle surprise. Bonjour!_ ”  
  
“ _Bonjour,_ Schätzchen! You look a lot better. How was the car ride? Reinhardt was excited to meet you.” Angela hugged Amélie and held her by the shoulders to get a good look at her.  
  
“It was nice. I think I remember seeing Reinhardt around the base before I became like this. Hana is… refreshing.” The Frenchwoman was slightly uncomfortable being held by the doctor.  
  
“That’s good to hear. Amélie, would you please come with me to my ‘office’? I’d like to get some baseline readings on you and do a blood test.” Angela had a stern look on her face.  
  
“Winston and Lena want to see me, so it’ll have to be quick…”  
  
Amélie hated needles. Talon made generous use of them when dealing with her.  
  
“Relax, I’m not going to do a full examination. My codename is ‘Mercy’, remember?” Dr. Ziegler laughed and pointed down the hallway towards a sign that read ‘Pharmacy’.  
  
“I’ll be there in a bit. Have a look around if you want.”  
  
Amélie nodded and wandered down the hallway, leaving Pharah and Mercy behind. The shops on the sides were run down and had been plundered a long time ago. Overwatch had set up construction lights every few steps so one didn’t have to stumble in the dark, but the lights gave the scene an eerie vibe. The corridors leading to the destroyed part of the building had been blocked off with tarps and wood to hold the wind out. Echoes of Widowmaker's clicking heels could probably be heard in every corner of the place, accompanied by the occasional crunch of a shard that had not yet been swept away.  
  
As she reached the pharmacy, Amélie wasn’t very surprised to find it brightly illuminated and tidy.  It matched Angela’s personality. Judging by the orderly set aside crates of medical equipment, she had been using the old mall as a temporary base for a little less than a week. A compact fission generator seemed to power everything, and she’d even decorated the pharmacist’s desk with some personal belongings. Amélie couldn’t resist taking a look. There was a notebook with a pencil and eraser neatly arranged in front of what she assumed to be Angela’s laptop. Next to it, there was a picture frame with a picture of Angela and Pharah at the beach, hugging and smiling. Amélie heard Angela’s footsteps coming down the hallway, so she put the picture back and sat down in a chair next to the desk.  
  
“So, da bin ich,” Angela said as she came in. “Sprechstunde bei der Frau Doktor.” She sat down at her desk and took a few utensils out of a drawer.  
  
“I just want to get your temperature and heart frequency. Would you please put this in your armpit for a bit?”  
  
She handed Amélie a small thermometer, who did as she was told.  
  
“Give me your left hand, please.”  
  
Angela gasped as she softly held Amélie’s wrist, feeling for her pulse with two fingers.  
  
“Meine Güte, you’re cold! Do you feel cold?”  
  
“Not really, no. Your fingers are really warm, though.” Amélie shrugged.  
  
“I’m sorry, this is just very fascinating to me. I’ve never seen anything like this before, and I’ve seen a lot of things.”  
  
The thermometer beeped and Amélie gave it to the doctor. A red light flashed next to its screen.  
  
“Wow. This is remarkable. This is quite something. Do you want to know?” Angela seemed enthusiastic about sharing her findings.  
  
“I guess… I mean, I know I’m probably a bit special, but how special am I, Dr. Ziegler?”  
  
“A _bit_ special? You mean _very_ special. Judging by these values, you should be dead. You have a heart frequency of 18 beats per minute and a body temperature of 19,7 °C. I’m really looking forward to that blood test now.”  
  
Angela stowed away her thermometer and jotted down a few notes.  
  
“You seem happy together”, Amélie said. “I wish I could have something like that.”  
  
The doctor looked up from her laptop.  
  
“Oh, you mean Fareeha and me? Don’t worry. You’re attractive and from what I hear, quite charming. Besides, we wouldn’t have agreed to take you in if we didn’t think you could be a decent person again.”  
  
“Do you think?” Amélie was still not convinced she deserved the warmth with which she had been accepted.  
  
“Yes, Schätzchen. Lena seems to be a little keen on you, too.” Angela winked and turned to the now slightly flustered Frenchwoman with a syringe attached to a cable in her hand.  
  
“If you hold perfectly still, this won’t really hurt. Can you give me your left arm again?”  
  
Amélie frowned and reluctantly stretched her arm towards Angela, who gently held it in place and steadily inserted the syringe. The tube slowly filled with almost clear, slightly pink blood. As the laptop beeped, Angela pulled the needle out of the blue skin and stuck a band-aid on the wound.  
  
“That wasn’t so bad, was it? Now, can you lean forward a little? I want to have a look at your eyes.”  
  
She pulled a small camera out of a drawer and held it in front of Amélie’s right eye.  
“There’s going to be a flash, but please hold your eye open”, she warned, before pressing the shutter button. Amélie flinched a little.  
  
“Okay, that was it. You can stop by anytime, but I think we’re going to pack up here tomorrow anyway. I still hope you stay with us.”  
  
Amélie stood up and looked at the clock on the wall. It read 12:23.  
  
“I appreciate it. Can you tell me how to get to the ‘lab’?” she asked.

* * *

Apparently, the scientist gorilla had found the utility rooms of the old power plant and set up shop there. There were screens and workbenches everywhere and a loud hum suggested that he got the water pumps running again. As Amélie stepped in, she knocked on the door frame.  
  
“ _Bonjour!_ You wanted to see me?” she said.  
  
Winston swung around on a hammock he had hung onto some pipes.  
  
“Oh, there she is! Hello!” he greeted. He had a deep and sonorous voice.  
  
Having never heard a talking gorilla before, Amélie didn’t really know how to respond.  
  
“Oh, um, hello… What was it you wanted to have me down here for?”  
  
Lena zipped through the other door with her hands behind her back.  
  
“We’ve got something for ya, luv!” She was shaking with excitement. “Wanna see?”  
  
“You were going to show it to me anyways, _non?_ ” When it came to getting presents, Amélie was impatient.  
  
“Ta-dah! Here ya go!” Lena handed her a box that felt like it had clothes in it.  
  
Amélie put it on a workbench and lifted the lid off. There was a dark gray visor, a combat suit and a pair of boots inside.  
  
“You… made a uniform for me? That quickly?” She took the visor out of the box and inspected it.  
  
“And a visor too?”  
  
“Yes, um, Lena and I designed the equipment.”  
  
“I did the looks and Winston did the techy stuff,” Lena interjected.  
  
“We had everything but your current measurements, and I had to check your old equipment for surveillance devices and other stuff anyways, so I took the measurements there and started the AutoFab. It just got done. Uh, yeah.” Winston seemed to like explaining technical details a little too much, even stopping himself from further elaborating.  
  
Amélie noticed her open suitcase on the floor next to a workbench with her old, partially disassembled suit on it. Before she could complain about it, he continued explaining.  
  
“I, uh, found a kind of Taser built into your suit with a transmitter attached to it. I figure Talon could’ve used it to knock you out cold. That would’ve been, uh, bad.” He pushed his glasses up a little.  
  
“The visor uses, uh, liquid crystal reflector technology. If you look at the far edges of your field of vision, the crystals adjust and you can almost see behind you. You can see what’s above you perfectly. It also has an HUD that displays targets and infrared vision. By my calculations, you should be able to see as much if not more than with the old visor. Yeah.” Winston scratched his head nervously.  
  
Amélie put it on her head and was surprised by how well it fit.  
  
“This feels really nice. _Merci!_ ” she said as she took it off again.

“Well, we found your old files in the Overwatch database and figured head size doesn’t change much. I tried to make your new stuff look less evil and more like Overwatch. It’s also blue and gray to kinda blend in with backgrounds and stuff. You can try it on if you want, the staff locker rooms are down the hallway.” Lena was beaming and looked at her with anticipation.  
  
“I think I’ll wait with that until after I had something to eat, it’s past noon and I didn’t really eat anything yet.” Lena looked disappointed, but her face cleared up when Winston cleared his throat.  
  
“Uh, there’ll be lunch after the briefing. I actually made another fairly important thing for you.”  
  
He jumped over to another workbench, picked up a weapons case and gave it to Amélie. It was surprisingly light.  
  
“Your old rifle uses special ammunition that you can’t get anymore because you’re not with Talon. This one, uh, uses 7.62mm NATO rounds in a 30-round drum magazine.”  
  
Widowmaker opened the case, picked the rifle up and adjusted the stock. It was a sleek, jet black rifle that was well put together. It didn’t rattle or feel loose at all.  
  
“This… This is really light. And it feels very solid.”  
  
“Um, it’s made from carbon polymer. The barrel is titanium. You can test it if you want.” Winston pushed his glasses up again.  
  
“Can I? Wouldn’t that be dangerous, firing a rifle in the middle of a city? I don’t really want to attract police attention…”  
  
“Don’t worry, luv, we’re underground and we’ve raided the mattress storage for insulation! Come with me!” Once again, Amélie found herself dragged somewhere by the chipper Brit.  
  
This time, she was led to what she assumed to be a former storage room. It was long and high, and Overwatch had stacked old mattresses along the walls. A few mannequins with bullet holes stood at varying distances from the entrance.  
  
“There ya go! Fire away!” Tracer looked at the sniper expectantly and covered her ears.  
  
Amélie didn’t need to be told twice. She brought the rifle up to her shoulder, disengaged the safety and took aim. With five quickly aimed shots, she let the heads of the farthest mannequins explode, before mowing the rest down with a few controlled bursts. She rested the rifle on her shoulder and nodded.  
  
“This is a good rifle. There’s just one thing it needs.” She looked at Winston. “If it is possible of course.” She didn’t want to seem demanding or rude.  
  
“Uh, I think I know what you may want. I have already made something for it. Um, I figured a sniper might want to hide the flash.”  
  
Winston rummaged in one of his suit’s pockets, fished out a flash suppressor and threw it to her. She promptly screwed it onto the barrel after switching the safety back on.  
  
“I don’t know what to say. _Merci._ ”  
  
“No problem. Lena said you needed a new gun so I made one. I like making things.”  
  
Lena uncovered her ears.  
  
“Nice shots, luv! If you don’t mind, I’ll show ya where you can put your stuff and get some shuteye tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Translations:
> 
> Quelle belle surprise! - What a nice surprise!  
> So, da bin ich. Sprechstunde bei der Frau Doktor! - So, here I am. Consultation hour with Mrs. Doctor! (Frau Doktor can't be properly translated from German)  
> Meine Güte - my goodness
> 
> ### Notes:
> 
> Progress has been a little slow because I want to have at least two chapters ready before posting a new one. I'd still appreciate criticism and comments, but so far I'm really happy with how many people are reading this and leaving Kudos. Thank you!


	4. Inclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are made and Amélie enjoys the company of people who don't see her as a tool. Is she forgetting something?

The old mall had been home to a big furniture store and apparently, the people of Overwatch had decided to make the bedroom department their sleeping quarters. It made sense, Amélie was just surprised it worked because the place had been abandoned for such a long time. The bedroom department was divided into different styles of rooms with various sets of furniture. They mostly tried to use the single beds, although unsurprisingly, Pharah and Angela seemed to share a marital one. To get a little privacy, everyone had dragged a few separators in from another department. Lena stopped in front of one of the improvised rooms.  
  
“Alright, here we are. That’s where I sleep. It’s only one bed, but it’s big enough, so I think we can manage. Unless you’re uncomfortable of course, then we’d have to haul over another mattress.” Being stared at quizzically by Amélie, she added, “Look, I might snore a bit, okay, that’s why I’m at the end of the hallway.”  
  
Amélie thought about it for a second before she smirked.  
  
“ _D’accord,_ but don’t get any ideas. Let’s keep this professional.” She put the box with her new uniform next to one side of the bed.  
  
“What do you think will happen tomorrow, Miss Oxton?” There was a hint of distress in the sniper’s voice.  
  
Lena sat down on the edge of the bed, resting her head on her palms.  
  
“I reckon, ideally we’ll shoot some bad guys, avoid dying as best we can and truck it,” she said before lightening up again a moment later.  
  
“But first, we’re going to have some food and listen to a mission briefing. We can focus on not dying tomorrow.” She jumped up off the bed and gestured towards the hallway.  
  
Amélie sighed.  
  
“Okay, I’m coming.”

* * *

 

The smell of curry wafted halfway up the staircase from the staff kitchen. Almost like a reminder that she hadn’t eaten anything decent in a while, Amélie’s stomach started to rumble.  
  
“You’re hungry, aren’t ya, luv?” Lena giggled.  
  
“I am,” Amélie admitted. “Who’s cooking? It smells good.”  
  
“I think Hana and Reinhardt are on kitchen duty today. Now I’m getting hungry, too!”  
  
As the women entered the kitchen, Reinhardt greeted them in an apron, swinging a towel over his shoulder.  
  
“Ah, ladies, perfect timing,” he roared. “Hana is just finishing the fine tuning. You can help carrying plates and cutlery!”  
  
“ _Avec plaisir_ ! I must say, it smells _délicieux._ What are you cooking exactly, Hana? And how many plates do we need?” Amélie found the crate containing Overwatch’s field cutlery next to the counter Hana was working on.  
  
The rest of the kitchen was in a state of utter destruction like a bomb had gone off in it. Just enough room had been freed from the mess to allow for hazard-free food preparation.  
  
“I’m making some chicken curry, and I’m just about done here. We need eight cutlery sets. Bastion doesn’t eat and Winston has his own monkey supplements. Onwards, to the lift!”  
  
Reinhardt picked up the pot with the curry, Hana took care of the rice and Lena and Amélie carried cutlery and plates.  
  
“I haven’t eaten together with anyone in ages. I guess my life really is changing,” she thought out loud.  
  
Reinhardt laughed heartily, almost spilling the curry onto the elevator floor.  
  
“Yes, it is changing. You are changing, and that’s good,” he said.  
  
“And remember, you’re not alone. We’re here and available to listen to whatever ya got on your mind,” Lena added.  
  
Amélie nodded and her lips curved upwards slightly in a hint of a purple smile. In the years she spent at Talon, she never had any emotional support. Suddenly having people with her who cared about her was new, and she still had to come to terms with it.  
  
When the group arrived at the dining room department, there were already hungry Overwatch agents waiting at a table. A big gray combat omnic was standing next to it and beeping melodiously. As Amélie stepped into its field of vision, the light in the middle of its head turned yellow for a second before the robot waved at her.  
  
“What is that? Isn’t this dangerous? I mean, _sacre bleu,_ that’s a combat omnic!” Amélie didn’t trust the friendly beeps with which the imposing machine tried to convince her of its friendliness.  
  
“Oh, that? That’s just Bastion. We don’t really know what happened to it, but apparently, it’s friendly unless provoked. I think it just registered you as friendly.” Pharah looked longingly at the pot of curry in Reinhardt’s hands.  
  
The giant German put it on the table and knocked the robot on the shoulder pad.  
  
“I fought hundreds of these tin cans before. If anyone would be wary of it, it’d be me. So far, it has not betrayed my trust. Even Torbjörn trusts it.”  
  
Amélie started setting down plates without a word. She felt that if someone like Reinhardt could trust a machine like that, she could, too.  
  
Jack Morrison arrived, pushing a whiteboard.  
  
“Getting settled in, _Madame_ Lacroix? Good. Better than I expected. Alright, let’s eat and then I’ll show you what I have planned for tomorrow.”  
  
He proceeded to fill everyone’s plates and sat down himself. The group ate in silence for a good while, interrupted only by sounds of culinary satisfaction. Now that everyone sat together, Amélie felt like she had to say something. She had been with Overwatch for less than a day, and she already experienced more kindness than she did in all the years at Talon combined.  
  
" _Excusez-moi,_ I... I would like to thank you all. I know that not everyone here likes me or the fact that I'm here, but even those who don't like me have been nicer to me than Talon has. I was almost prepared to be put in a cell until further notice, but you just took me in as if it was the most normal thing in the world."  
  
She paused for a second to look around. Everyone had stopped eating, looking at her attentively.  
  
"You work so well together. I really want to join, repay my debt. I'm afraid to be in the way. If you have a use for a sniper, I'm happy to help. That... that is all."   
  
Jack Morrison nodded and got up from the table.  
  
"That's good, because you're needed in our plan for tomorrow. I'll be honest, I was expecting you to be very different, and now I see you really need our help. We can certainly use yours." He drew a rough plan of the building and a list labeled 'battle plan' on the whiteboard.  
  
"So, everyone, listen up. This is what's going down tonight and tomorrow morning. First, we will sabotage Talon's little bomb they have in King's Row. Hana and I are taking care of that one," he explained, looking at Hana, who nodded in agreement.  
  
"We're going to lure Talon here. We have the upper hand here and the general public won't be in immediate danger. We also have two trump cards: Bastion here, and you, _Madame_ Lacroix. They must have noticed you're missing by now, but I'm fairly sure they have no clue where you went. Well, we're going to show them." He proceeded to sketch positions and markers into the map he drew on the whiteboard.  
  
He tried to let everyone play out their strengths while keeping it as safe as possible. Talon was an international terrorist organization with trained mercenaries, ‘mercy’ wasn't in their vocabulary. Amélie had witnessed their brutality first hand; reconditioning had not been pleasant.  
  
" _Je suis desolée,_ Miss Oxton. The new uniform will have to wait. You heard the captain, I'll have to pretend I'm with Talon tomorrow."  
  
"Bollocks. Oh well, I guess I'll have something to look forward to."  
  
"I hate to interrupt your banter, but I want a word with you, Lacroix." Captain Morrison had a stern look on his face.  
  
"I'll get to packin' then. Ta ta!" Lena waved and zipped off to the sleeping quarters.  
  
Amélie started stacking up plates and collecting cutlery. Reinhardt had already carried off the big pot.  
  
"What did you want to talk about, Captain?" she asked.  
  
"Listen, I don't dislike you. I'm willing to let you join on probation, but I also remember... I just want to be safe from possible Talon traps. I hope you understand that," he said, furrowing his brows.  
  
"I understand. In fact, I'm thankful you're treating me like a person and not like a dangerous animal. Locking me up would not be unreasonable."  
  
He nodded, pat her on the back and left.  
  
"Prepare yourself for tomorrow, it's going to get rough."  
  
Amélie let out a deep sigh and called the elevator to the kitchen.  
  
Just before the elevator doors opened in the kitchen, a grim realization set in. Amélie had told Overwatch where the EMP would be and what Talon wants to do with it, but she hadn’t told them about the door code and the booby traps yet! Morrison and Hana were going to leave in a moment. They had to know about these things, or this evening would turn sour.  
  
The doors slid open. Amélie sprinted into the kitchen to find Hana sorting various cooking equipment into crates.  
  
“Whoa, don’t fall!”, Hana yelped when the sniper came to a halt in front of her, almost dropping the plates she was carrying. She worriedly took them from Amélie’s hands.  
  
“ _Oh, mon dieu,_ it’s good you’re still here. I have some important information for you! One, the door code, and two, there will be traps. Are you good at remembering numbers?”  
  
“Uh, I think so, but you might just want to type them here,” Hana said, handing Amélie her smartphone, who in turn filled her in on the traps, nails skittering away on the touchscreen.  
  
“That was close. I almost made a mistake,” she said, handing the phone back to Hana and gesturing at the dishes, “I can take care of that, you go ahead and prepare yourself.”  
  
“Thanks! I love cooking, but I hate to do the dishes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Translations:
> 
> D'accord - Agreed  
> Avec plaisir! - With pleasure  
> délicieux - delicious  
> sacre bleu - damn it  
> Excusez-moi - excuse me  
> Je suis desolée - I'm sorry  
> mon dieu - my god
> 
> ### Notes:
> 
> You may have noticed Amélie is adapting rather quickly. I chose to do it this way because this story is supposed to be fluffy and I really didn't want to write her being insufferable for pages on end. Don't worry, there will be conflict later on. Also, there is only one bed.
> 
> I would like to thank a certain character blog for giving me some exposure, you know who you are. I appreciate it!


	5. Hindsight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amélie faces an AI and a doctor and they both make her face her past. Accepting oneself is a long process, but with understanding new friends and friendly faces around, it can be made much easier.

Lena was in the process of stacking clothes into a suitcase when Amélie entered the makeshift bedroom.  
  
“Hiya, luv! Wanna help to load the Orca? We need t’be ready ta leave quickly tomorrow,” she chirped.  
  
Amélie walked over to Lena’s luggage and picked up the only other suitcase she found.  
  
After a few brief moments of silence, Lena couldn’t take it anymore, zipped her suitcase shut and sat on it.  
  
“Okay, hun, something’s buggin’ ya. Wanna chat?”  
  
Amélie shifted her weight from one leg to the other uneasily.  
  
“Can… can we talk about it while we walk?” She had to move, standing still or sitting down was not an option.  
  
“Uh, sure, luv, whatever you feel okay with. Follow me then!”  
  
Lena hopped off her suitcase and walked into the hallway. Amélie followed her with long graceful steps, but she couldn’t hide that she was a little tense.  
  
As they almost reached the half of the building that had been destroyed during the Omnic crisis, she began to speak.  
  
“I… almost made a mistake today.”  
  
“How so?”  
  
“I told you about that EMP in King’s Row.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I almost didn’t tell you about the traps. I told Hana just now.”  
  
“Oh. But you did tell her, didn’t ya? That’s what counts.”  
  
Amélie was quiet.  
  
“Look, ya got a ton and a half o’ pressure on ya. It’d be bloody easy ta bugger up, but ya didn’t.”  
  
“I nearly did, though.”  
  
“The fact that you’re so worried about that already means that you’re more than a mindless killing machine. If Talon knew, I reckon they’d be pissed.”  
  
A faint smile ghosted across Amélie’s face.  
  
“See, that’s one o’ the things I like about ya. Even though everyone thinks you’re cold, you're really not. Ya care and ya try hard.”  
  
“Uh…”  
  
“Ah, and there’s someone else here you don’t know!”  
  
Lena pulled back on a tarp concealing the door of a big white aircraft and opened the door.  
  
“The Orca? I know that thing, I shot it several times. I’m sorry.” Amélie was confused until a reverberating feminine voice started to speak.  
  
“Unidentified person detected, scanning database… Match found: Amélie Lacroix. Status: MIA. Warning: Dangerous and potentially armed, possible affiliation with Talon.”  
  
“Ya can strike the Talon thing, she’s with us now, Athena,” Lena said. “May I introduce ya to Athena, our friendly neighborhood AI?”  
  
“Um, _bonjour…”_ Amélie wasn’t sure how to respond to the disembodied voice that belonged to Overwatch’s AI.  
  
“Hello, Mrs. Lacroix. I’m Athena. If you don’t mind, I’d like to update your file. Would you be okay with that?”  
  
Amélie put the suitcase down by the pile of luggage in the Orca and crossed her arms. Athena had to have access to her file. How much exactly did she know of her? The thought that this machine knew her entire life story was slightly uncomfortable.  
  
_I guess it can’t be helped,_ she thought to herself.  
  
She had no experience with AIs, so she was a little anxious about how Athena would react.  
  
“Athena, I’d like you to call me Ms. Lacroix, Amélie or Widowmaker when I’m on a mission. Can you do that?”  
  
“I certainly can.”  
  
“ _Bien._ I’d also like to know where you’re active. I mean, where can you see me or hear me?”  
  
“I am built into Overwatch communication devices such as your new visor or Winston’s terminals. In Overwatch facilities, you can tell me to get out of a room and I will – in a way – wait outside for you to let me in again. Does that answer your question?”  
  
“I guess it does. Is there anything else you require for my file?”  
  
“I need to know your affiliation to Overwatch. Are you an active agent, and if so, what is your codename?”  
  
“I guess so. My codename is Widowmaker. I’m a sniper.”  
  
“Your file has been updated. I have another question. Why is your codename ‘Widowmaker’?”  
  
Amélie sighed. This question was uncomfortable. It was unexpected for the AI to be interested in things like the origin of her codename. A few days ago, Amélie wouldn’t have had any trouble answering that question, but now that her feelings were coming back to her, it made her simultaneously sad and angry.  
  
_It’s better if she knows. I don’t want to hide anymore._  
  
“Ya don’t have ta answer her, ya know?”  
  
“ _Non,_ it’s okay. I want to. The name comes from my profession and how it came to be. I was under mind control and killed my husband. I made myself a widow. Then I proceeded to turn many others into widows and widowers by killing their husbands and wives. It’s also the reason why the days of Talon are numbered.”  
  
“Oh. I am very sorry for your loss. That is a meaningful codename.”  
  
“I don’t want you to bring that topic up. If I talk about it, it’s okay. _As-tu compris_?”  
  
“I got that, yes.”  
  
“ _Superbe_ , Athena. I’m looking forward to working with you.”  
  
It felt like a burden was lifted off her. Sharing that memory had been long overdue, and to Amélie’s surprise, her emotions weren’t uncontrollable.  
  
“Miss Oxton, is there anyone else we can help?” she asked after a short silence.  
  
Amélie didn’t do well with awkward pauses. With good friends, silences could get very long before becoming awkward. She liked Lena, but she had only known her for a few days.  
  
“Well, Miss Lacroix, we could go and see if Angie needs a hand” the Brit said with a wink.  
  
Amélie chuckled and brushed her long ponytail off her shoulder.  
  
“We should! She ran some tests on me, I want to know how they turned out.”

* * *

 

Tracer led the way. The Orca was parked on ground level, so they had to get back to the escalator to reach Angela’s makeshift office. The women walked next to each other for a bit before the Brit started talking again.  
  
“Hey, I’m proud of ya for what ya said back there. Accepting yourself is important.” She had the same serious look on her face that she had in The Fox and The Bear.  
  
“Well, I think I can’t go hunt Talon down if I cry every time I think about what they made me do,” Amélie responded. After a short pause, she added, “And I’d rather have my past out in the open instead of trying to hide what made me who I am now.”  
  
To her surprise, there was no playful remark from Lena. If anything, she had been quite empathetic.  
  
_So she doesn’t only care about my appearance,_ Amélie thought.  
  
“That’s a good attitude! Angie can probably tell ya what happened to your body. Then you’ll know exactly what you are!”  
  
A smile flew across the sniper’s face. As she walked up the escalator a few steps behind Lena, another thought entered her head:  
  
_She does have a cute butt._

* * *

 

Lena knocked on the doorframe of Angela’s office to make their presence known. The doctor looked up from her screen and turned around in her chair. She had a mixture of excitement and concern on her face.  
  
“Hey! Are you here for my findings? I have some good news and some bad news for you. Which one do you want to hear first?” She gestured at the chairs standing next to her desk.  
  
Amélie and Lena sat down next to each other.  
  
“I think I want the good news first, Doctor,” Amélie said.  
  
“Please, call me Mercy or Angela or Angie, we are all familiar with each other so formalities make me feel weird. ”She cleared her throat.  
  
“So, your blood contains almost no oxygen. That’d be bad if you didn’t have artificial lungs. You must have artificial lungs, or you’d be dead by now.”  
  
Lena excitedly shifted in her chair.  
  
“Ooh, is that why she’s so blue? Does her blood look different?”  
  
Amélie smiled.  “Yes, it’s almost clear. I’m also a bit colder than normal. Here, see for yourself.”  
  
As she held an arm out, Lena gently placed a hand on her forearm.  
  
“Blimey, that feels like the tiles in my bathroom at eight in the morning! That’s amazing!”  
  
Laying two fingers on her wrist, her amazed wide eyes gave way to furrowing brows.  
  
“Where’s your pulse, luv?”  
  
“ _Trois, deux, un…_ There it is.”  
  
As Lena’s eyes widened again, Angela cleared her throat once more.  
  
“I don’t want to interrupt you two, but I’ve got more things to tell you.”  
  
“Ooh, please do!”  
  
“You’ve probably noticed Amélie’s unusual eye color. That’s a byproduct of some genetic modification, I think. There’s a reflective layer in her eyes just like the one cats have. You should be able to see in the dark quite well, Schätzchen.”  
  
“I think I can, I don’t really remember how it was before Talon made me like this.”  
  
Angela looked at her screen briefly.  
  
“It looks like you’re stable in your condition as far as I can tell now, but I’d like to keep you under observation to look for any changes.”  
  
“ _D’accord._ ”  
  
“Now for the bad news: The modifications made to your body are too extensive to reverse. I can almost guarantee that you’d die if I tried to. I’m sorry.”  
  
Angela lowered her head. Amélie felt sorry for her.  
  
“ _Pas de problème._ It’s who I am now, I’ve lived like this for years. Besides, it makes me more dangerous.”  
  
“I like ya the way you are,” Lena blurted out and turned red quickly.  
  
Amélies heartbeat increased and wrinkles of surprise appeared on her forehead before she regained her composure. Her cheeks turned a bluish shade of purple.  
  
“ _Merci, chérie._ ”  
  
There was another prolonged silence. An urge to fill it flared up inside her, but Lena’s sudden eruption had derailed her train of thought. Angela saved her from her misery.  
  
“Now that we got that out of the way, you could help me carry some stuff to the Orca. You can take those two boxes, I’ll finish this up and follow.”  
  
As Lena and Amélie left, the doctor sighed.  
  
“Now I know what everyone else must’ve felt like when Fareeha and I started dating…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Translations:
> 
> As-tu compris? - Did you understand?  
> Superbe - superb, great  
> Trois, deux, un - three, two, one  
> D'accord - agreed  
> Pas de probléme - no problem
> 
> ### Notes:
> 
> Progress has been a little slow, partly because I always want to be two chapters ahead of what I publish. I'm really happy that so many people read my story and leave Kudos, so thank you for that!


	6. Insight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation with Angela shows Amélie a lot about herself and Lena reveals a secret.

The hours before Morrison and Hana came back were like the calm before a storm. The rest of the equipment that wasn’t still needed was loaded into the Orca and defensive positions in the old mall were established. Guns were cleaned and oiled and armor was polished.  
  
Winston sent Lena to set up a few motion detectors in strategic locations since a giant gorilla on the roof of an old mall would be very easy to spot. Everyone was busy and intently working towards making the upcoming battle as survivable as possible.  
  
Amélie felt a bit left out, as she had already discovered her perches. She didn’t want to be in the way, so she went to the basement to practice. The new rifle felt good, it was much easier to reload than the one Talon gave her. Within minutes, she turned the remaining mannequins into shreds. With nothing to aim at, she went to ask Winston to teach her how to dismantle the gun. He was swinging around the utility room’s pipes and tapping away on a tablet at the same time. Amélie assumed he was setting up the motion detectors and making sure everything worked as it should. Nobody wanted surprises that could end with the wrong people dying. Winston gladly helped her out, so she started a contemplative loop of disassembling and reassembling her weapon. It was her lifeline, she couldn’t afford equipment failure in battle.  
  
_I really don’t want to mess up tomorrow_ , she thought.  
  
Once again she started taking her rifle apart.  
  
_I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me. Especially Lena, she convinced everyone to help me…_  
  
She absent-mindedly set the receiver aside and began unscrewing the barrel.  
  
_Did Lena mean what she said about liking me? She has been flirting a lot. That was flirting, right?_  
  
She barely caught the gun’s receiver as it slid off the table. Realization hit, and it hit hard.  
  
_I like her. More than a friend. I have never liked a woman that way before._  
  
Amélie hastily put her gun back together and stormed off to Angela’s office. She was the only one she thought she could talk to about this kind of thing. She was already in the middle of figuring out who she was, she hadn’t even thought about her sexuality yet.  
  
“ _Excusez-moi,_ Angela, but I have a question. Do you have five minutes?”  
  
Amélie didn’t knock, she just pulled up a chair. Angela was in the process of arranging the medical equipment she just checked into the pouches of her bag, but as soon as Amélie walked in, she set it aside.  
  
“Sure. What do you want to know?” she asked and leaned back in her chair. She took a sip of coffee from a big mug.  
  
Amélie hesitated for a second before answering. “How did you know you liked women?”  
  
Angela smiled and set her mug down. “Well, in high school all the other girls were gushing about how that actor was so hot. I thought he looked good, but it didn’t do anything for me. I was asked out by boys several times, I even kissed one, but again, it didn’t do anything for me. I guess I just never considered that I might be gay.”  
  
Amélie listened intently. Angela took another sip from her mug.  
  
“Then, in college, there was this girl on the soccer team. She was the goalkeeper; she was tall and a bit of a tomboy. I didn’t care for soccer at all, but she smiled at me when I walked by one day and my heart jumped. The only thing I could think of for a week was her and that smile. And then she asked me out. Long story short, we dated for around 2 years,” Angela continued.  
  
_My heart… accelerates around her. It doesn’t usually do that._  
  
“That sounds lovely. I remember I… I loved Gerard, so I don’t know what to do now,” Amélie said, her voice faltering slightly.  
  
Giving her an understanding look, Angela chuckled.  
  
“It’s okay, Schätzchen. Maybe you’re bisexual, maybe you’re lesbian. You’ll figure it out, just do what feels right,” she said.  
  
Her words gave Amélie some much-needed reassurance.  
  
“ _Merci beaucoup._ I’ll try. Do you need help with anything?” she asked.  
  
Angela got up from her chair and resumed sorting equipment into her bag.  
  
“I just have to get my bag battle-ready for tomorrow. I think the others might be in the living room department somewhere, you can go ahead.”  
  
Amélie nodded and went to look for the others. Talking to Angela made her feel more at ease with herself. She was getting used to having feelings, but all she remembered about her sexuality was that she was attracted to men.  
  
_I really am changing. C’est la vie_ , she thought.

* * *

 

When she arrived in the living room section of the furniture department, laughter and Reinhardt’s throaty voice enthusiastically telling stories from his time as a crusader echoed from one of the furniture displays. He was sitting on one of the threadbare couches, polishing a piece of armor. Ana drank tea in the corner of the couch, her daughter lounging in a reclining armchair across the once immaculate designer coffee table. Lena sat cross-legged on the corner of another couch.  
  
“ _Bonsoir,”_ Amélie greeted quietly.  
  
Lena almost fell over and barely caught herself. She scooted over and gestured for Amélie to take a seat. Reinhardt was quite engrossed in telling his story, but he noticed Amélie as she was sitting down.  
  
“Ah, Amélie! I was just finishing this story. What have you been up to?” he asked.  
  
“I know my rifle inside and out now. And I’ve been doing some… introspection.”  
  
Lena giggled and poked Amélie in the side. Amélie flinched faintly, but she didn’t move. Would she have gotten angry if someone else had poked her?  
  
“Mystery woman, eh? We’re just passing time telling stories, gotta wait for Jack and the little one to come back,” Lena said with a warm smile.  
  
“I would love to participate, but I am afraid I do not have any fun stories to tell,” Amélie said.  
  
That was true, her time at Talon hadn’t been particularly enjoyable. There were some faint memories of her former self, but it didn’t feel right to tell stories of a person she didn’t feel like she was anymore.  
  
Heels clicked down the hallway, accompanied by what sounded like someone hopping along barefooted. A second later, Mercy and Winston came around the corner.  
  
“Uh, hello. We, uh, we could play some trivia if you’re fine with that,” Winston suggested.  
  
Nobody objected. Angela sat down on Pharah’s lap while Winston set Athena up for the game.  
  
As Amélie expected, it was dominated by Winston and Angela. Amélie got a few questions right, but she couldn’t quite concentrate fully on trivia. Her neighbor was too distracting. She glanced over at Lena every now and then and caught glimpses of details she hadn’t noticed before. Her mind spun around earrings, wide hazel eyes and an infectious smile.  
  
After the first round of trivia that Angela won, Amélie excused herself to take a shower. She didn’t mind being naked in front of others, but having just discovered her interest in women and barely being in control of her feelings, she didn’t want to be rude.  
  
When she came back from the shower, Jack and Hana had just arrived. Hana gave her the thumbs up, indicating the operation went well. Jack, on the other hand, didn’t look so cheerful.  
  
His usually wrinkled brows were furrowed even tighter now. Amélie prepared to be scolded. A slip up like this could be just what he had been waiting for.  
  
She was leaning against a wall in the hallway with her arms crossed when he paced towards her. He was clearly not in a good mood.  
  
“You can imagine I would’ve liked that info a bit earlier,” he grumbled.  
  
“I can. And I’m sorry, I should have told you earlier,” she replied coolly. She didn’t want to fight.  
  
“There was enough firepower in there to blow a tank to pieces. We could easily have died there. Unlike Talon, we don’t have any replaceable cannon fodder.”  
  
Amélie briefly checked if her hair was dry yet and sighed. She wasn’t having it.  
  
“ _Écoute,_ I have been beating myself up over this all day already. I know I almost slipped up, but I would like to see you try to manage suddenly having feelings after not having any for years. And then try to remember mission details that were not even important to you before.”  
  
Immediately, Amélie wondered if she went too far. He was someone who could just throw her out if he wanted to after all. Morrison scratched the back of his head in an attempt to overplay his remorse.  
  
“Anyways, I already told the others that we should go to bed soon. Get enough sleep so you’re not tired tomorrow. Can’t have tired people fighting for their lives.”  
  
“ _Bonne nuit,_ ” Amélie replied as he walked away.

* * *

 

She made her way back to the makeshift bedroom she had to share with Lena for the night. When she entered, Lena was already waiting for her. She had an unusually serious look on her face and fiddled nervously with the straps on her accelerator.  
  
“Hey. Would ya mind sitting down for a bit, luv? I’ve got something to tell ya,” she said.  
  
Amélie did as she was told. She wanted to do her best giving back the care she received.  
  
“What’s troubling you?” she asked.  
  
Lena fidgeted for a second before she undid one of the straps on her accelerator.  
  
“You… you can’t tell anyone about this. It’s about my accelerator. You’ve got to promise,” she said.  
  
Judging from her voice, this was very important to Lena.  
  
Amélie pulled her boots off and set them down by her suitcase next to the box containing the new uniform. Pulling her legs onto the bed and slinging her arms around her knees, she answered: “Alright, I promise.”  
  
Lena took a deep breath and took the humming device off her chest. The blue light in the center flashed briefly as she set it down.  
  
“This thing is what made you call me an annoyance when we were fighting. It’s also what keeps me in this time,” she said.  
  
She paused and looked up at Amélie, who was patiently listening.  
  
“Maybe you know that, but I was a test pilot for a teleporting fighter jet. Well, it had an accident and I kinda dissolved in time. This thing keeps me where and _when_ I am. I need to stay near it, or I’ll dissolve again. You can see why that thing is so important to me and why nobody outside of Overwatch knows about it.”  
  
Amélie’s eyes widened as Lena laid it all out and she had to really try to not let her mouth hang open. Her identity crisis seemed minor compared to being ripped from time itself.  
  
“ _C’est étonnant!”_ she gasped. _“Bien,_ if I ever tell anyone about this without your permission, you can shoot me if you want to. I’d deserve it.”  
  
The two women sat on the bed together for some time. To Amélie’s surprise, this silence didn’t make her feel uneasy. It was nice to just sit together quietly. Sheets rustled in the next room and pipes creaked somewhere down the hallway. Lena was steadily breathing at the other end of the bed, legs crossed and with her back leaned against the headboard.  
  
Finally, Amélie broke the silence with a question that plagued her since she talked to Angela.  
  
“Lena.”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“Are you into women?”  
  
Lena perked up, making the bed frame squeak.  
  
“Luv, I’m about as straight as a bloody curly wurly!” she giggled.  
  
Amélie quizzically laid her head onto her arms with a smile flickering across her face.  
  
“What’s a curly wurly?” she asked.  
  
“It’s a chocolate bar that’s basically the opposite of straight. Point is, yes, I’m very much into women. Why do you ask?”  
  
Amélie let her legs slide off the side of the bed and opened her suitcase.  
  
“I was just wondering why you were flirting so much. Hana told me you are not usually like that,” she said.  
  
Lena flopped back against the headboard with a sly grin on her face.  
  
“Well, I do like you a lot, and you are a bit of… a… looker…”  
  
Lena struggled to get the words out of her mouth.  
  
While she was talking, Amélie had taken the towel off her head and slipped out of her dress. Her purplish black hair was falling in cascades over her shoulders as she prepared her old uniform for the next day and stowed away her dress and boots.  
  
“A-anyways, I’m gonna try my very best to keep this professional, as you asked,” Lena stammered as she scrambled under the sheets on her side of the bed.  
  
Amélie chuckled and slipped under the sheets herself.  
  
“ _Bonne nuit!”  
  
_ Lena laid on her side, facing away from her. She shifted around sporadically, struggling to find a comfortable position. After a few minutes that seemed like hours, she sighed quietly.  
  
“Bollocks, I’m way too gay for this,” she muttered.  
  
She started snoring soon after. Amélie lay awake for some time, pondering over the events of the day. Nobody had been this kind to her in years. The warmth of another person under the sheets wasn’t something she was used to either, but it felt cozy. She didn’t even mind Lena’s snoring. Overwatch cared for her, and she was learning more and more about herself.  
  
_I think I really will stay with them,_ she thought, before falling asleep herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Translations:
> 
> Excusez-moi - excuse me  
> Merci beaucoup - thank you very much  
> C'est la vie - This is life (It is how it is)  
> Bonsoir - good evening  
> Écoute - listen  
> Bonne nuit - good night  
> C'est étonnant - that's amazing
> 
>  
> 
> ### Notes:
> 
> This chapter took a while, but I was a little stuck on another one further down the road. Thanks for all the lovely support, especially to [Tafferling](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/tafferling). I'm really interested in your opinion on this one. I thought that Amélie shouldn't just accept being attracted to a woman after a life of heterosexuality without any inner struggle. I don't know what realizing you're of a different sexual orientation than you expected feels like, so I hope this is viable.


	7. Extraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which someone wants to catch a spider.

Something heavy and warm lay on her shoulder and stomach. Amélie wasn’t sure what woke her up - the swarm of crows croaking away one floor higher or the fact that Lena was using her shoulder as a pillow. Amélie looked down and found Lena’s spiky hair almost tickling her nose. The alarm Morrison set hadn’t gone off yet, so she looked at her phone. There was more than half an hour left before everyone would get up.  
  
_I could get used to this,_ she thought.  
  
The warmth gave her a sense of comfort and safety, but Lena’s head pinning her right shoulder down meant that she couldn’t move freely without disturbing her sleep. She would rather wake her up softly than shake her out of her slumber. She could have easily broken free, but that would have been a very rough awakening for Lena, so that was out of the question.  
  
This compassion was new. She liked it.  
  
“Lena…” she whispered.  
  
Lena didn’t budge.  
  
“Lena,” she whispered again, this time a little louder.  
  
No reaction. Whispering wasn’t going to wake her up.  
  
_Now what?_  
  
She didn’t have a choice, if she didn’t want to depend on the alarm to be able to move, she had to do something. But what? She had no experience in gently waking up women sleeping like a rock half on top of her.  
  
She lifted her free hand over Lena’s head and hesitated for a second before softly ruffling through her hair.  
  
“Lena, _réveille-toi_ ,” she said quietly.  
  
Lena’s face twitched and a weary groan escaped her lips.  
  
“Ugh, just gimme five more minutes,” she mumbled.  
  
_God, she’s cute._  
  
“ _Tu n'es pas une personne matinale, non?_ I’d like to move. You’re on top of me,” Amélie said teasingly.  
  
Lena raised her head and opened her eyes, meeting Amélie’s briefly.  
  
“Oh crap, I’m so sorry,” she apologized before sitting up quickly, “I’ve… I’ve been on top of ya for a while, haven’t I? Even though I promised to keep this professional. I didn’t mean to, I swear.”  
  
Amélie propped herself up on her elbows. She didn’t want to keep it professional anymore. She wanted to tell Lena what she felt for her, but she held herself back. The unknown emotional rollercoaster she could launch for both Lena and herself was too much of a liability for the next few hours.  
  
“ _As-tu bien dormi?"_   she asked.  
  
“I dunno what you said but it sounded bloody sexy,” Lena replied, half-jokingly.  
  
She nervously ran her hand through her hair. The spikes were a little disheveled, more than usual.  
  
“ _Pardon,_ I asked if you slept well,” Amélie said with a smile on her lips.  
  
“Oh, uh, yeah, I did, luv. Ya know, you’re a bit like the cool side of a pillow.”  
  
Amélie chuckled and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. The tight tank top she was wearing to sleep had ridden up a bit, so she pulled it down.  
  
“Um, _merci?_ ” Amélie said.  
  
She wasn’t sure if that was a compliment, but she decided to take it as one regardless. Did Lena really not do it on purpose? Either way, she didn’t mind.  
  
“What about you? Did you sleep well?” Lena asked.  
  
“I did,” Amélie said.  
  
“That’s good to hear. Alright, I’m gonna nip under the shower for a bit.”  
  
Lena grabbed her accelerator, swung her legs out of the bed and walked off. Amélie sighed and sunk back into her pillow. She lay there for a few minutes before she got ready herself.  
  
Ana knocked on the wall when she was in the middle of brushing her hair. The suitcase laid open on the bed, her clothes neatly folded inside.  
  
“ _Saba il khayr,_ Miss Lacroix,” Ana greeted from the entrance.  
  
“Ah, _salut!_ ”  
  
“How did you do it?” the Egyptian asked.  
  
“Do what?”  
  
“How did you make Lena stop snoring?” Ana pondered. “She usually does it all night, but tonight… She stopped after a while.”  
  
Amélie put her brush away.  
  
“I don’t think I did anything. I just slept next to her,” she stated and got out a mirror and makeup.  
  
Ana laughed, her coarse voice echoing down the hallway. Amélie could hear a few people waking up, but she didn’t mind. It was only a few minutes until the alarm was going to go off anyways.  
  
“No matter, it seems to calm her down. We’re making a bit of breakfast before we pack the rest of the field kitchen up. I’ll be there,” Ana said.  
  
She left and waved over her shoulder.

 

* * *

  


When Amélie came back from storing the last of her things in the Orca and arrived at the kitchen, she could smell bread buns and croissants. Did they get some just for her?  
  
“ _Salut!_ ” she greeted, shifting in her suit. It stuck to her like cling film in places, she was glad to be rid of it soon.  
  
Hana swallowed a piece of bun and waved. Ana raised her teacup.  
  
“Hi!” the Korean smiled.  
  
She eyed Amélie up and down and raised her eyebrows.  
  
“They sent you into battle in _that_? Aren’t you cold?” she asked.  
  
Amélie shrugged and shook her head, making her ponytail flail around.  
  
“ _Non,_ not above freezing.”  
  
“You’re weird,” Hana giggled. “We’re all weird. Weird is good. Anyways, want a croissant? Here.”  
  
Amélie quietly ate her pastry and listened to the others chat. Would everything go as planned? It rarely did in her experience. The others were joking around, but Amélie was sure they were doing it to overplay their own fears. It was harder to see with Lena, because she was always making jokes.  
  
Lena walked into the kitchen. She didn’t spot Amélie leaning against the wall, instead she went straight for the big Thermos bottle of coffee on the counter. She poured herself a cup, added two cubes of sugar and turned around to look directly into Amélie’s eyes. The look on Lena’s face was a mix between startled and pleasantly surprised.  
  
“When you drink coffee, _chérie…_ Can you blink without your accelerator?” Amélie joked.  
  
Lena almost spat out her coffee. She blushed, but nobody but Amélie and Ana noticed. Lena walked over to Amélie, took another sip and shook her head.  
  
“Nah, it just gets me up and running in the morning. I’m guessing you drink yours black?” she responded.  
  
“ _Au lait,_ ” Amélie said.  
  
She just opened her mouth to explain, but Lena interrupted.  
  
“Ah, I’ve been dragged to enough pretentious coffee shops to know what that means, luv.”  
  
Amélie furrowed her brows.  
  
“Are you saying French is pretentious?” she asked in jest.  
  
Lena’s eyes widened, taking the ribbing seriously.  
  
“Of course not! It’s a beautiful language! I just think people abuse it quite a lot. If I need to know three languages to order a bloody coffee, something’s wrong. Don’t you agree?”  
  
Lena gesticulated as she talked, making Amélie worry for the coffee in her hand.  
  
“That’s fair,” Amélie said. Poking fun was harder than she thought.  
  
She liked talking to Lena. It felt nice to be around her and Overwatch. Sure, a few of them were understandably wary around her, but for the most part they accepted who she was. They didn’t see her as a tool, as a mere means to an end.  
  
However, she couldn’t help but worry. What if Talon’s reconditioning reared its ugly head? What if that relentlessly nagging feeling made her want to kill her new friends? What if she got that rush again that always overcame her when she killed? She wouldn’t know until it happened.  
  
Morrison came in and looked around with his arms crossed.  
  
“Alright, people. Today’s showtime. Before we let Miss Lacroix’s equipment phone home, we need to pack the rest of our stuff up. We don’t know what they’re going to throw at us, but I doubt we’ll have time to pack after the fight,” he said.  
  
Lena set her mug down and sighed. “Good morning to you too, Jack.”  
  
She emptied the mug in one swig and washed it out in the sink. It was like a signal for everyone. The tranquil and casual atmosphere made room for bustling productivity. Leftover food was sorted into boxes and carried away, and people who didn’t help in the kitchen walked off to carry other equipment to the Orca. The power went out; Winston had taken the portable generators off the grid. Everyone performed a final check of their equipment. Nothing would be left to chance, at least nothing they could influence.  
  
It wasn’t long before everyone got into position. The most likely entry point for Talon troops would be the main entrance of the mall, which spanned over several stories and reached just under the roof. The ragtag team spread out behind cover overlooking the entrance. They took the high ground, which made it harder for enemies entering the front door to hit them. There was no doubt Morrison was a good tactician; he always made the most of what he had.  
  
Amélie made her way to one of the elevators in the old power plant chimneys. The sliding doors on every level stood wide open. Lena accompanied her to the shaft. Amélie let a loop of rope out of her grappling hook and elegantly slung it around her leg.  
  
“ _Bonne chance, chérie,"_ she said.  
  
Lena saluted and jogged off, shouting, “Don’t worry luv, the cavalry’s here!”  
  
Hearing that made a smile creep onto Amélie’s face. This is what she wanted to fight for. What was coming was what she wanted to fight. She shot her hook into the roof of the elevator shaft and jumped. Hanging in there, she could overlook the whole entrance hall. It also provided good cover. Amélie placed a venom mine on the top floor to prevent anyone from cutting off her rope.  
  
She took a deep breath.  
  
“I am in position,” she reported.  
  
“Copy that. Standby for Winston,” Morrison’s voice instructed through the earpiece.  
  
A few minutes passed. Thankfully the suit Talon made her wear was thicker on the legs so the rope didn’t cut into her thighs. She could see the old railroad tracks outside the old power station. Long tufts of grass had grown over them along with a few shrubs that didn’t need much light. Instead of tearing the old railway down, a new one had simply been built on top of it on thick ferroconcrete pillars. The new, raised maglev track threw a long, deep shadow, but at least the weeds below it would serve as decent indicators for wind speed and direction. There wasn’t much cover outside that enemies could hide behind either. This was both good and bad. Good, because it meant that they were easy targets, and bad, because it meant they’d try to storm inside as quickly as possible.  
  
Her earpiece came alive again.  
  
“Uh, switching off the GPS jammer now. Get ready. Um, if you aren’t already,” Winston said.  
  
He had taken everything that could possibly transmit a signal out of Amélie’s equipment. The various small devices, some not even bigger than a pinhead, were now in a neat row on a table on the top floor. No longer hindered by a jamming signal, they were alerting Talon of their new position as soon as the gorilla turned off the jammer.  
  
“D.Va online. Bring it on!” Hana shouted in excitement.  
  
She seemed happy to stretch the legs and thrusters of her MEKA unit. Bastion was stomping around all over the place, whistling various melodies.  
  
_I guess you can’t really give it orders,_ Amélie thought.  
  
She found a comfortable place in the elevator shaft to brace her legs against and brought up her scope, looking for Lena. She was sitting cross-legged on an old bench. Amélie half expected that itch in her trigger finger as her crosshair brushed over her neck, but it wasn’t there. That urge to kill had been there since she was kidnapped by Talon, but now it was gone. At the very least, she didn’t feel it looking at Overwatch members anymore. It was a relief.  
  
Minutes ran by like syrup without a thing happening. Reinhardt whistled some old Hasselhoff tune and Morrison absent-mindedly tapped his fingers against some railing to the rhythm.  
  
Suddenly, the distant roar of several engines and antigrav repulsors churning gravel reached Amélie’s ears. She switched her visor on and looked in the general direction of where the noise was coming from. A convoy of three armored transporters approached at a cautious pace. She broke radio silence.  
  
“Ahem,” she cleared her throat, chambering her rifle. “Three APCs inbound to main entrance, I count 18 mercs.”  
  
“Alright, lock and load people, we have hostiles inbound!” Morrison bellowed.  
  
The tension was there instantly. No more whistling, no more goofing around. This was serious.  
  
“I’m picking them up now on the sensors, confirming three vehicles approaching,” Winston said.  
  
There were much fewer pauses in his speech than usual.  
  
It didn’t take long before the black personnel carriers came into sight. They parked in a defensive formation in front of the entrance, the hum of their antigravs reverberating through the building.  
  
“ _Trois fois merde,_ ” Amélie muttered and looked through her scope.  
  
For thirty agonizing seconds the black unmarked trucks just stood there, before the doors in the back flew open, and a horde of men clad in black overalls with armored vests and balaclavas swarmed out and into cover at the sides of the entrance. They were still clearly visible for Amélie and she was sure the wall wasn’t thick enough to stop her bullets, but she didn’t fire. Not unless they did. Morrison had been very specific about that. He had hoped that Talon would attempt to negotiate.  
  
That hope was instantly shattered in the following moment when 18 assault rifles filled the air with hot lead. Reinhardt’s shield popped up in a flash, and Morrison dove behind it.  
  
“Return fire! I repeat, return fire!” he yelled and let loose a burst of pulse rounds, hitting one of the assailants in the thigh.  
  
The wounded mercenary cried out in pain and fell on his back, but was quickly pulled back into cover by two of his colleagues. Amélie positioned her crosshair over the head of one of the ones still firing and pulled the trigger. As soon as she saw the bullet connect and rip his balaclava to shreds, she felt a sharp sting in the back of her head. The unexpected pain made her numb for a second.  
  
_What was that?_  
  
She acquired another target. The guy Morrison hit in the thigh previously made the mistake of peeking out of cover. The contents of his skull were splattered across the gravel a split second later.  
  
The pain came back.  
  
_Oh merde, of course,_ she thought.  
  
Of course Talon had included a failsafe in her reconditioning, in case she turned on them. She decided to ignore the pain and keep shooting. Nothing would make her give up. She was just about to take aim on a third target, when an explosion shook the building. Debris crumbled from the ceiling, and girders creaked as the load they were bearing shifted. One of Pharah’s rockets had blasted the wall Talon’s troops were hiding behind to pieces, killing two. Hana picked off another three that were stupid enough to take her on up close after their cover crumbled under fire. Suddenly something small and cylindrical was thrown in the air, and before Amélie could warn anyone, the flashbang exploded. Everyone but her was blind as a mole, since luckily her visor protected her. She wasn’t immune to the loud ringing in her ears, but she managed to take out another mercenary before another one pointed at her. She had been spotted.  
  
Immediately the remaining troops stormed into the building and up the broken escalator, laying down cover fire. Amélie pulled herself two floors higher. Down below, Morrison had darted behind a wall for cover in an effort to be harder to surround. Reinhardt dropped his shield and started swinging his hammer around, sending four mercenaries flying into walls, crushing their ribcages.  
  
Amélie caught a gunner trying to be smart in her peripheral vision. He was making a beeline towards Morrison’s flank when her bullet dropped him face first onto the floor. With a primal roar, Winston jumped right in the middle of the remaining five. Even through their masks, their fear was clearly visible. He put down a shield bubble and fried two of them with his Tesla cannon. The smell of burnt plastic and flesh almost instantly assaulted Amélie’s nose. Morrison picked off another one and Amélie just took aim when a blue flash took care of her two remaining targets. Lena spun on her heel and saluted in her direction.  
  
The Talon troops didn’t stand a chance. They weren’t equipped or trained well enough to deal with a group of Overwatch operatives. The relief that nobody was hurt didn’t have any time to set in, though. Amélie’s visor notified her that her venom mine had been destroyed. Shortly after, a staccato of Gatling gun fire and angry beeping came from the top floor, followed by two perforated, pulped corpses falling down the elevator shaft. Amélie swung to the other side of the shaft to dodge them, shot up to the top floor and found Bastion waving at her with its maintenance arm.  
  
“Thanks, _mon ami,"_ she said.  
  
A series of cheery beeps was the answer she got. She let out a sigh of relief. This fight was much easier than anyone had anticipated, almost too easy. Bastion made his way downstairs, and she followed shortly after. When they arrived at the bottom of the stairs, Hana had already stomped down the hallway with her mech. The group gathered at the top of the escalators.  
  
“So, nobody’s hurt? Alright. Good job. Angela is going to confirm their deaths and follow as quickly as possible. We have to get out of here,” he said.  
  
There were a lot of handshakes and high fives on the way to the Orca, and the tension had begun to relax. As they took their seats in the Orca, Morrison and Ana became uneasy.  
  
“Angela should have caught up with us already,” Ana said.  
  
“I will go look for her,” Amélie said and got up from her seat.  
  
The last thing she wanted was for someone who fought for her to be injured or captured at her own rescue operation. The way to the entrance was long and dark, dark enough that even Amélie had trouble seeing. She didn’t hear a thing, until Athena spoke to her.  
  
“Dr. Ziegler’s vitals are accelerated, and she is showing signs of fear. It might be best to hurry,” she said.  
  
Amélie started to sprint without a word. When she reached the end of the corridor, Angela was nowhere to be seen. She flipped down her visor, and as if that was his cue, a man stepped out from behind a pillar. He had a self-assured grin on his face and pushed a terrified Angela in front of him. Her hands were tied together and held over her head. He had a gun aimed at Angela’s temple. The man was a specialist, one of Talon’s infiltrators. They were usually Amélie’s superiors in missions, and she hated them.  
  
“Now, be a good girl and come with m—“  
  
_Bang._  
  
His demand was cut short by a 7.62 caliber bullet, the rest of his words only bloody gurgles. These guys liked to promise sparing people and then didn’t for their own sadistic fun, so she just shot him. Unfortunately, the projectile had passed through Mercy’s shoulder muscles almost severing a tendon before piercing the infiltrator’s right lung. The familiar euphoria welled up in her until her programming registered something was wrong. A burst of gleaming hot pain in her head came and vanished as quickly as it had appeared before everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Translations
> 
> réveille-toi - get up
> 
> Tu n'es pas une personne matinale, non? - You aren't a morning person, are you?
> 
> As-tu bien dormi? - Did you sleep well?
> 
> Saba il khayr - Good morning (Egyptian Arabic)
> 
> Au lait - with milk
> 
> Bonne chance - Good luck
> 
> Trois fois merde - Knock on wood (literally: Three times shit)
> 
> merde - shit
> 
> mon ami - my friend
> 
> ### Notes
> 
> This was the first fight scene I've ever written. I hope you had fun reading it! As always, comments are very welcome. A special thanks goes out to my beta, who is a great help in making this story even better.


	8. Remembrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions are high after what happened in London. What will happen to Amélie, and will Overwatch still welcome her?

It was like a veil had been violently ripped off her. Her memories had been slowly coming back, but they were behind a haze, the details were blurred. Now they were clear as day. In its death throes, Talon’s conditioning threw memories of her torture at her, but they only strengthened her resolve. She remembered her handlers in her dreams, the people who wronged her, who caused the slaughter that they used her for. They were going to pay. One of them already had. The infiltrator she shot yesterday - his name was Miller - he had been on the team for her first mission.  
  
Gérard.  
  
Miller wasn’t the one who planned that act of cruelty, but he’d certainly enjoyed being part of it. He was dangerous, like a lot of people in Talon. A sense of gratification overcame Amélie.

 

* * *

 

Amélie woke up with a throbbing headache. She found herself handcuffed to the table she was sitting at, opposite the pile of luggage she helped load. It was quiet in the Orca. She looked around and found Angela and Pharah sitting at the far side of the table. Hana was playing video games in her mech on the other side of the cargo bay, and Reinhardt leant on a wall up in the cockpit.  
  
She had to say something, at least to apologize to Angela. Nobody should think that she wasn’t sorry, that she just cold-bloodedly accepted collateral damage like that. She juggled with words in her head, nothing seemed to do her feelings justice. With an audible slap, Pharah let her palms fall onto the table.  
  
“Why did you shoot her? Weren’t there other options?” she asked.  
  
Her tone had something demanding and accusatory. This was the tone of a woman whose girlfriend was hurt.  
  
“Angela, I… _Je suis vraiment désolée, c’est ma faute._ I didn’t want to hurt you, he shifted… But I had to shoot, he would have killed you if I didn’t. I… I’m so sorry, I…”  
  
Amélie didn’t address Pharah, she wasn’t the one she had to apologize to. She would have continued to apologize profusely if Angela didn’t cut her off.  
  
“It’s okay, Schätzchen. My shoulder is going to be fine by the time we land, it’s nothing serious. At least not with me around,” she said.  
  
“But habibti, she shot you in the shoulder!” Pharah protested.  
  
Amélie sighed in relief. At least Angela didn’t seem like she was in pain. Amélie could understand why Fareeha was upset, but seeing as Angela didn’t take it seriously, she thought her anger was exaggerated.  
  
“Apparently a girlfriend with a hole in the shoulder is worse than a dead girlfriend.” She bit her lip, fearing she overdid it. “I’m sorry I shot her. I did not mean to, I swear, I feel terrible about it. But I had to kill Miller, he would have shot her and taken me with him. And I can guarantee she would not have survived that,” she said.  
  
A little of Pharah’s aggression faded as she sat back.  
  
“Liebling, it’s fine. Besides, my shoulder is almost back to normal again. See?” Angela said.  
  
She stroked Pharah’s chin with her right arm, like she wanted to prove her point. The yellow glow emanating from the hole in her suit was already impressive enough. To be able to hold that many nanites in her bloodstream must have taken years of research and experimentation.  
  
Amélie just wanted to open her mouth to elaborate, but she was interrupted by the whole crew coming down from the cockpit.  
  
“Right-o, I’ve made sure we weren’t followed and we’re now heading for Gibraltar in a nice and tidy arc around Spain,” Lena said as she skipped down the stairs.  
  
She even did a little bow at the end. When it came to flying, Lena liked to boast a bit. The smile on her face grew even wider when she saw Amélie, who raised her cuffed hand and shrugged. Lena’s smile turned into a puzzled frown and she rested her hands on her hips, looking at Morrison for answers. He crossed his arms and planted himself in front of the table.  
  
“Yeah, if you want out of those, you’d best tell me every tiny detail of what happened there,” he said.  
  
“I was just about to do that,” Amélie responded.  
  
And she did explain. Her memories of being reconditioned were the only parts that were still patchy and hazy, likely because she had been drugged the entire time, but they all had one thing in common: Miller was there. Looking through a window at her trying to wind herself out of her shackles in agony, watching her kill hostages with tears in her eyes, he was there. With the same self-assured smile on his thin lips he had when she shot him half an hour ago. He once proudly told her who he was, he only introduced himself with his last name. He was the head of Talon’s infiltrators, he trained them all. He was the reason for Widowmaker’s notorious ruthlessness, her cruelty. She had watched him through her scope countless times in hostage situations like the one in Battersea Station as his life insurance, his dead man’s switch. She had watched as the extorted party sighed in relief before the hostage was shot right in front of their eyes and Miller made his escape. She had watched his disciples do the same. It was Angela’s and her luck that he had become cocky. He had been used to not be met with resistance, he thought he didn’t need his life insurance.  
  
She told them about the sting in the back of her head that came when she killed Talon mercenaries, about the flash of pain that knocked her out when she killed Miller. She told them about her newfound clarity and about her first mission as Widowmaker.  
  
When she was done talking, the silence in the aircraft was only broken by the hum of the engines and an occasional rattle of the lashing straps used to tie the luggage down for several minutes.  
  
Finally, without a word, Morrison unlocked her handcuffs. Amélie gave him a nod of gratitude, before he walked back up to the cockpit. Lena sat down next to her. She had listened with wide brown eyes and a solicitous look on her face.  
  
“Wow. I imagined they _just_ screwed around with your body, drugged you and planted some thoughts in your head, but man…” Hana gave her a pat on the shoulder as she walked past, “That’s fucked up.”  
  
There was so much more she hadn’t talked about yet. She didn’t know if she ever would, maybe when the time was right. For now, it was too painful to recollect the horrors she had endured. Ana quietly walked over and put a cup of tea in front of her. Amélie wondered where she got the tea from, but she appreciated it nonetheless. She supposed it was Ana’s way of subtly caring.  
  
Amélie set her headgear down before she took a sip. Reinhardt scratched his head.  
  
“You’re strong,” he grumbled, “but now you’ve got us. Well, me at least.” He laughed. “If you ever need my shield, just ask.”  
  
Pharah nodded. “I… I have to apologize. I thought you just didn’t care.”  
  
Amélie had never told anyone about her reconditioning before. She was on the verge of crying. She couldn’t have imagined she’d be received with this much understanding and sympathy.  
  
“I should have noticed when I examined you after your kidnapping,” Angela said. “I feel pretty bad about that now. I’m sorry.”  
  
“Don’t. Don’t feel bad,” Amélie said quietly. “You’re not a psychiatrist, there was nothing you could have…” Before she could finish the sentence, her voice faltered and tears rolled down her cheeks.  
  
Immediately, Lena wrapped her arms tightly around her. The hard housing of Lena’s accelerator pressed into her sternum, but that didn’t matter. Once again, she was overwhelmed. They didn’t have to help her, they didn’t have to worry, and yet they did. Lena didn’t have to comfort her, and yet here she was, holding her tight. The warmth of Lena’s cheek touching hers was so soothing, so affectionate, she didn’t care about the cold tears running down her face anymore. She hesitantly put her arms around Lena’s chest.  
  
“It’s okay, luv, I’m here for you. We’re all here for you,” Lena murmured right next to her ear. “It’s okay to cry, and if you want to talk, I’m here.”  
  
By the time they loosened their embrace, the shoulder of Lena’s leather jacket was slick with tears. Lena didn’t mind. She reached behind her and fished a pack of tissues out of a drawer. Amélie mouthed ‘ _merci_ ’ and dried off her face. Lena put her arm around her shoulder and scooted up close. This time it wasn’t as distracting as it had been the evening before. On the battlefield, Amélie - no, Widowmaker - had run into Tracer a few times. She had thought of her as an annoyance; nobody could be that cheery and good-natured all the time. The only time she had caught a glimpse of how much she cared before now was that night on the rooftops over King’s Row.  
  
_I guess_ I _am the foolish girl,_ Amélie thought and took another sip of tea. It was sweet.

 

* * *

 

Lena took her up to the cockpit. There was nothing outside but the Atlantic Ocean and a faint line of land along the horizon on the left, along with some puffy white clouds. A little of the salty sea air got in through the cabin filters and the waves were barely visible from up here.  
  
“See, views like this are part of why I like flying so much. Just look at that!” Lena said, gesturing at the horizon. “Okay, flying over land is more exciting because I actually have to do things, but this is pretty nice, don’t ya think?”  
  
She had placed her feet on the dashboard, carefully avoiding any buttons or dials. It took Amélie a second to take her eyes off Lena’s legs before she answered.  
  
“It’s calming in a way, is it not? The world flying past,” she said. After a pause, she added: “You did well today.”  
  
Lena laughed and let her head fall against the pilot seat’s headrest. Amélie liked her melodious, pearly laugh. It was almost contagious. Lena looked at her with those deep, brown eyes.  
  
“Thanks, but you were amazing. You said your head hurt when you shot them?” she asked.  
  
Amélie nodded.  
  
“Yeah, I’d probably just let the others take care of things if that happened to me. But you didn’t”, Lena continued.  
  
“No, I didn’t,” Amélie said quietly.  
  
Because if she did, how could she face Talon when she didn’t have any help? Her revenge would be impossible.  
  
“Lena, I… I think when I shot Miller, a part of my ‘programming’ broke.” She paused, fidgeted with her ponytail. “I remember things more clearly now. The time before… and what they did to me.”  
  
Carefully taking her legs off the dashboard, Lena sat forward in her seat. Her orange goggles dangled from her neck.  
  
“I’m not a shrink, I’m not, but I think that’s a good thing. You can only, um, process the past if you remember it, ya know?” She had a sympathetic smile on her face. “And talking helps. Helped me when I came back from nowhere.”  
  
Amélie was grateful, very much so, but all she managed to respond with was another slow nod.  
  
Morrison came up to the cockpit. There were wrinkles on his forehead again; the man was perpetually worried.  
  
“I hope we don’t get into any trouble with law enforcement. I bet some politicians would just love to send an army after us for violating the Petras Act and killing 21 people,” he grumbled. “Nevermind that those guys were terrorists trying to kill us.”  
  
After Overwatch was officially disbanded, the Petras Act was put into place by the International Justice Commission to outlaw any future Overwatch activity. It was a punch in the face for Morrison and all the others who risked their lives to protect people in the Omnic Crisis.  
  
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Amélie said. “I have seen what happens after a battle like that many times. Talon’s cleaners are very thorough. It won’t even be in the news if they don’t want it to be.”  
  
He let out a sigh of relief and tried to smile.  
  
“I hope you’re right.” He paused for a second and turned away from the cockpit window towards her. “Listen, I want you to participate in training. I want to know what you are capable of and also make sure you’re healthy.”  
  
Was he actually worrying about her or was he just making sure she wouldn’t hold the team back? Either way, Amélie didn’t object.  
  
“ _D’accord,”_ she said, and he left her alone with Lena again.  
  
There it was again, the surprisingly comfortable silence. Lena had changed from the day she talked Amélie into defecting Talon, the day she had knocked over the first domino of Talon’s programming. She tread lightly around her now, knocking at the door rather than bashing it open with a battering ram.  
  
Amélie caught herself staring. Staring at the helix piercings in Lena’s left ear, at her athletic build. Amélie had caught herself staring before, but she found new features every time she did. Thankfully Lena didn’t notice, because she was looking out of the cockpit windows again.  
  
“What is training like?” Amélie asked.  
  
Lena shuffled in her chair, facing towards Amélie.  
  
“Oh, we do strength and endurance training as well as weapons practice,” she said. “We all have different strengths though, so we don’t follow the same routines. Angie keeps us in check.”  
  
That seemed like her. Angela had an almost motherly aura. A day didn’t have enough hours for the amount of work she devoted to keeping her friends and colleagues healthy. Her inhuman coffee consumption was proof of that.  
  
“I have noticed,” Amélie said.  
  
“Do you actually have any sports gear with you?” Lena asked, perking up, “because if you don’t, we can just ask Winston to make some.”  
  
That was another thing Amélie hadn’t thought about yet. Now that she could no longer use Talon’s fake IDs and credit cards, she was dependent on Overwatch. The only things she had with her were a few clothes and cosmetic items.  
  
“That would be nice, _merci_ ,” she said.  
  
Lena filled the rest of the flight with funny stories about the team. Apparently Genji, the cyborg ninja, unintentionally scared people almost daily by popping up in unexpected locations. Another tale was about Mei, a Chinese climatologist who had been cryogenically frozen for years. When she arrived in Gibraltar, she’d been complaining about being hot, refusing to take her coat off. Amélie wondered what weird stories Lena starred in.  
  
They were still giggling when the Orca banked left and Watchpoint Gibraltar came in sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Translations:
> 
> Je suis vraiment désolée, c'est ma faute - I'm truly sorry, it's my fault.  
> habibti - my love, sweetheart (Arabic)  
> Liebling - darling (German)
> 
> ### Notes:
> 
> It's a shorter chapter this time, the next ones will be longer again. As you may know, I'm 2 chapters ahead of you and boy, chapter 10 is long...


	9. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arriving at Watchpoint Gibraltar, Amélie meets many new people and her expectations of Overwatch and their accommodation face a reality check.

The white limestone of the promontory gleamed in the sun. Launch pads, antenna arrays and empty flag poles protruded from the tall rock formation, and more of the Watchpoint was slowly revealed as they circled around the tip. It was a sight to behold, even without the fleet of Orcas on the launchpads.  
  
“Now arriving at Watchpoint Gibraltar,” Athena said. “Pad 7 is clear for landing. I have marked it on your HUD.”  
  
“Got it,” Lena said as she elegantly swung the aircraft around and set it down on the pad.  
  
As the engines spun down and the door slid open, the sound of seagulls crowing into the wind and waves crashing reached Amélie’s ears. She silently watched Lena perform the post-flight checks as the rest of the team unloaded, admiring the diligence with which she went about it. When was the last time she enjoyed something like that?  
  
“Aaand done. Come on, I’m going to show you to your quarters,” Lena said.  
  
They grabbed their suitcases and stepped out of the Orca. A cool sea breeze blew Amélie’s ponytail around and brought the crisp smell of salt into her nose as she looked around, soaking in her surroundings. The watchpoint was built into wide caverns that had been carved into the limestone. Although the buildings were very functional in nature, the golden light bouncing off the walls and glass windows gave the scenery an almost dream-like quality. With its population reduced to a minimum after the Petras Act, the base seemed like a small ghost town. A lot of the windows had their shutters closed, serving as silent reminders to the downfall of Overwatch.  
  
They walked past the hangars, storage units and commando buildings. Every now and then, they passed people working on machinery or carrying supplies around. Lena waved at all of them, and they waved back. She seemed to be quite popular in the sprawling complex.  
  
“How do you keep all of this running?” Amélie asked, gesturing around herself. “Does the government not know?”  
  
Lena stopped and turned to answer, but the sound of wheels clattering on uneven concrete interrupted her. A very short bearded man slid out from underneath the forklift they were standing next to, getting up from his garage creeper and attempting to wipe some oil off his cheek with a gloved right hand, only smearing it into his beard. The other one had been replaced with what looked like a giant ratchet wrench.  
  
“I’m doing my best to keep things working! Ah, but where are my manners. Torbjörn Lindholm,” he introduced himself, scratching his ashen blond head. “I’d shake your hand, but mine’s a bit oily.”  
  
He had a strong Swedish accent and a warm, rumbling voice. Amélie gave him a short wave and nodded.  
  
“Amélie Lacroix,” she said after a second of hesitation. Not Widowmaker. “I… just joined.”  
  
“Ah, so Lena’s mission went well. Welcome on board!” Torbjörn said. “I think I crossed you in a hallway once when you were less blue.” A cautious grin briefly crossed his face. “I’m sorry for your loss.”  
  
Amélie nodded again. That topic was probably going to come up quite a bit. Every Overwatch agent she’d met so far tried to convince her she wasn’t at fault. But she’d been the one with the knife, even though she had been begging herself to drop it.  
  
Lena’s voice pushed that thought away.  
  
“Torbjörn! Forklift broke again? That’s the second time in two weeks!” she exclaimed.  
  
“Tell me about it. The torque converter on these things is the worst,” he sighed, glancing at a black, boxy piece of machinery on the floor. “Listen, I have to get this running again, we’re getting a shipment later.” He turned to Amélie. “If you have technical problems, come to me. I can’t fix anything I don’t know about.”  
  
With that, he rolled back under the forklift. The women started walking again.  
  
“He’s a good guy, just better with machines than with people,” Lena giggled. “Oh, and the government knows. They needed a place for Winston to stay and the locals disagreed with the Petras Act anyways, so they just leave us be. If we raised our flags and went full-on ‘Hiya, we’re back’, that’d be when they’d come and arrest us.”  
  
They soon arrived at the quarters. The three story building covered the whole back wall of the cave it was in, and its reflective windows overlooked a wide courtyard that had a track wrapped around it.  
  
So this was what Overwatch agents called home most of the time.  
  
Amélie gingerly followed Lena through the sliding door. She was greeted by a wide, brightly illuminated corridor. There were potted plants in the corners and several info screens in the entrance area, displaying training schedules and weather forecasts.  
  
“This is… nicer than I expected,” she said. “It’s so bright!”  
  
Lena laughed and patted her on the back, which made Amélie flinch a little at the contact on her bare skin. She needed to get out of it as soon as possible.  
  
“Did ya expect us to be stuffed away in some cramped old barracks when we’re not on duty, luv?” Lena asked.  
  
When Amélie had visited Gérard at work, she’d only seen the gleaming offices of the Swiss Overwatch headquarters. She’d imagined the watchpoints to be more like small outposts instead of miniature versions of the headquarters. In any case, it was already a lot more pleasant than Talon’s concrete bunkers. Her cheeks coloured slightly.  
  
“No… I just didn’t expect this.”  
  
It really was a very well-equipped place. They walked past signs that pointed to a gym and corresponding changing rooms before heading upstairs. The interior wall of the hallway was left in its natural limestone state and lit warmly, giving it a very cozy atmosphere. Nameplates next to doors littered the other wall in regular intervals, and Amélie noticed a sign that said ‘Lena Oxton - 113’ in passing. They stopped in front of room 121. It didn’t have a nameplate yet.  
  
“Alright, here’s your new place. You have a bed, a closet, a desk with a terminal, and your own shower.” Lena gestured around while she was showing Amélie around. “And,” she opened the shutters with the press of a button, “a killer view.”  
  
Amélie almost dropped her suitcase. The view outside really was breathtaking, a postcard-worthy picture of the Mediterranean Sea framed by limestone.  
  
“Thank you, again,” she murmured, staring at the view in wonder.  
  
Lena scratched her head and made Amélie’s heart jump with a beaming smile.  
  
“Ah, don’t worry about it. I just need to go fetch your nameplate and register this as your room.” She walked out of the door, only to stick her head back in. “And welcome home!”  
  
Amélie sat down on the bed. _Her_ new bed. She looked around the room. _Her_ new room. It wasn’t particularly big, but it was much more spacious than the holding cell that Talon kept her in in the beginning. It also had the benefit that she could walk out at any time. The walls were painted white, except for the one behind the bed, which was a warm shade of yellow. A huge window wall flooded the room in soft light. Amélie didn’t even want to imagine what the complex must have cost in planning and construction.  
  
She let herself fall into the sheets, revelling in the soft silky feeling before frowning. The feeling of soft fabric against her back reminded her that she was still wearing that purple catsuit. She got up on her feet, put the suitcase on the bed and walked over to the window. After she found the button, the shutters closed again.

* * *

  
  
The new uniform felt amazing. The dark gray was neatly accented by azure shoulders, and Amelie couldn’t help but feel amused at how much more practical this outfit was over her old one. Where the old catsuit had a provocatively deep neckline and clung to her skin like shrinkwrap, the new one looked and felt more like a well-fitting motorcycle suit, and Amélie didn’t feel nearly as exposed as she now realized she did in the Talon uniform. It wasn’t clingy and felt reassuringly sturdy. A small Overwatch logo adorned the left side of the chest. Even the boots were a lot more comfortable, offering more support for her ankles. Several metal loops were sewn into it, which would serve as spots to secure her grapple to.  
  
Amélie walked into her small bathroom and took a look at herself in the mirror.  
  
_So this is the new Widowmaker_ , she thought.  
  
She looked more like a special agent than a comic book villain now, which was a welcome change. Amélie remembered how appalled she’d been when Talon forced her into that purple outfit. That was before they started pumping so many drugs into her that she couldn’t tell left from right anymore. This new outfit was different. She liked it, and she would wear it with confidence.  
  
A knock at the door distracted her from her thoughts. She walked over to open it, and was greeted by Lena's smile and a face she'd never seen before.  
  
"Hi, settling in? I got... you... these..." Lena’s cheeks turned bright red. " _Wow_ , you look good in that."  
  
_Ba-bump.  
  
_ There it was again.  
  
" _Merci!_ You designed it, I think you did a great job. Who's that?" she asked, turning her head towards the new face.  
  
"Oh, that? Sorry, I totally..." Lena stepped aside to allow Amélie to see past her. "This is Satya, she wanted to meet our newest agent."  
  
Long, jet black hair framed her brown-skinned face and she moved in a graceful, fluid manner.  
  
"Greetings, my name is Satya Vaswani," she said.  
  
"It is a pleasure to meet you," Amélie greeted and held out her right hand.  
  
Satya didn't return the favor. Amélie's eyebrows twitched almost unnoticeably, but she quickly noticed the look of discomfort on Satya's face.  
  
"Uh, Satya doesn't do very well with touching," Lena interjected and Satya’s uneasy expression faded.  
  
Amélie's eyes widened. She didn't want to jeopardize the relationship with someone she'd just met a minute ago.  
  
"Oh, _pardon_..." She nodded in Satya's direction. "Pleased to meet you. I hope we get along well."  
  
"I hope so, too," Satya said.  
  
Amélie felt Satya's big brown eyes scanning her up and down.  
  
“Lena,” Satya said, smiling at Lena, “for someone who cannot sit still, this is pretty good work.”  
  
Lena giggled.  
  
"Thanks! I didn’t do it alone, Winston helped. And without your fabric samples I couldn't have done it," she said.  
  
"I'm still surprised, you said you'd never done this before."  
  
"Ah, I really wanted this to turn out right and since this was kinda my idea, I didn't want to tell anyone to do it for me."  
  
Satya nodded.  
  
"Well, Ms. Lacroix, I must take my leave. I heard you did ballet once, maybe we can find some time to dance," she said and walked off down the corridor.  
  
Satya had an interesting personality. She held herself with a similar calmness and elegance as Amélie, and Amelie had a feeling that they’d get along just fine.  
  
Lena closed the door behind her, laid a pack of workout clothes on the bed, and sat down at Amélie's desk.  
  
"Well, that's Satya. She has her quirks, but we all have some." She turned around to Amélie and just looked at her for a few moments. "Do you like it? You look absolutely stunning."  
  
_Ba-bump.  
  
_ Amélie's cheeks warmed.  
  
"I really like it. It feels much better than the old one. Thank you," she said.  
  
She started sorting the few clothes she had into the closet. There were some handy drawers in there and a light that switched on when the door was opened. After a short few minutes, only her old rifle and the purple catsuit were left. Not knowing what to do with them, she sat down on her bed with both items in hand.  
  
"That is what's left of the old Widowmaker," she murmured and looked at Lena with a slight frown.  
  
"We can throw it in the recycler if you want,” Lena said quietly.  
  
Amélie stared at the items in her hands. Her old equipment was a reminder of many things she’d rather not have done, had she been given a choice. She started folding the suit up neatly.  
  
_I want to be better than what this stands for_ , she thought.  
  
Amélie put the old suit on her desk and began disassembling Widow’s Kiss. Brown eyes watched attentively as her hands took the gun apart like they were on autopilot, stacking it up neatly on the desk.  
  
She stared at the piles for a long moment.  
  
“I want to keep it,” Amélie said. “To remember who I don’t want to be.”  
  
“That’s also a good idea. I can ask Torb for a lockbox.” Lena got up and rubbed Amélie’s back. “I’ve got to get my stuff sorted in, so I’ll be in my room. You can knock anytime.” She waited for Amélie’s slow nodding before she left.

* * *

  
  
There was nothing to do in her room anymore, so Amélie decided to explore the base some more. She tensed up at the thought of running into people she had only seen on the other end of her scope before. She would have to meet them sooner or later, so she decided against actively avoiding them. Her stomach reported a distinct lack of food, so finding the mess hall rose to the top of her priority list. As she closed the door to her room behind her, she noticed that next to the room number, her name was now displayed along with a button similar to the one on her phone’s lock screen. She hovered her finger over it, before she swiped it left. The lock shut with a click and Amélie took a deep breath before walking down the corridors.  
  
Morrison. Amari. Amari Sr. Wilhelm. Vaswani. Shimada. McCree. Ziegler. Song. Zenyatta. Zhou. Correia dos Santos. Lindholm.  
  
Oxton.  
  
Lacroix.  
  
_I wonder what life will be like now._  
  
The corridor reminded her of a hostel she visited in high school once. It felt familiar, but also new.  
  
Heavy guitar riffs were punctuated by rhythmic punching sounds as she neared the gym. Amélie popped her head in, and found Pharah pummeling a punching bag, sweat dripping down her arms in rivulets. She was glad they were on the same side now, because she wasn’t keen on switching places with it. Pharah noticed her and stopped, wiping her face with her shirt as she turned to face her.  
  
“Hey. Settling in?” she said.  
  
Amélie gave her a slow nod.  
  
“Is that the new uniform? Looks good!” The music quieted down a little and Pharah steadied the swinging punching bag. “You can use the gym anytime, by the way. Also, if my music is too loud, please let me know.”  
  
“It’s okay, I was just curious. And thank you.” Amélie looked around. The air conditioned room housed a wide variety of training equipment. Info screens kept everyone up to date with happenings around the base and offered training advice. “I was going to look for the mess hall but I heard you so I decided to take a look.”  
  
Pharah scratched her head with a gloved hand. “I’d show you around, but I’m in the middle of a workout. The mess hall is hard to miss though, just turn left and then it’s straight ahead. Just try not to get distracted by the scenery.”  
  
Amélie chuckled. “I’ll do my best.”  
  
The paved path that wound itself through the facility was drenched in sunlight as it came out of the cave’s shadow and turned around the quarters building. It was much warmer, walking in the sun. As she turned around another corner, she bumped into someone short.  
  
“Bù hǎo yì si! Ah, I’m sorry, sorry!” The short woman stepped to the side and lifted her hands. “I didn’t mean to startle you, are you okay?”  
  
_Says the startled one._  
  
“Mhm. Nothing happened, I was lost in thought. If anything, I should apologize,” Amélie said. “You must be Miss Zhou, non ? Lena told me about you.”  
  
She took a closer look at her. She was a bit chubby and probably the palest person she’d ever met. A pair of thick glasses with a square black frame sat on her nose and her hair was held up in a ponytail with a simple hairpin.  
  
“I am! Mei-Ling Zhou, but you can call me Mei. I don’t believe we’ve met…” Mei said.  
  
“We haven’t!” Amélie held a hand out. “Wido— Amelie Lacroix’,” she said.  
  
Mei's eyes widened for a split second before they softened again. She shook Amélie's hand with an apprehensive grip, as if she was handling a dangerous substance.  
  
"Nice to meet you," she said and studied Amélie's face with curious brown eyes.  
  
"Likewise." Amélie tilted her head and put on her best friendly face. "I was trying to find the mess hall. Am I on the right way, still?"  
  
Mei fiddled with the hem of her blue tank top. She seemed nervous, but not unfriendly. Maybe that was just the kind of person Mei was, even though Amélie was still worried whether or not it was because of her.  
  
“Ah, um, yes, you’re going the right way. I was heading there too, actually,” Mei said.  
  
Mei led her the rest of the way through the compound. She kept a bit of distance between herself and Amélie. A few curious glances flew over the gap between them. Amélie made up and discarded several innocuous topics she could talk about with Mei, but Mei beat her to it.  
  
“This is one of the lab buildings, the mess hall is on the ground floor,” she said. They were walking towards a three-story building that was overshadowed by an enormous orange shuttle ramp. “The kitchen is to the right when you enter. So, um, I’ll have to check on some things, I hope you find everything.”  
  
They stepped into the air conditioned entrance through a big sliding door. Several disconnected display cables hung over yet another frosted glass sliding door, along with a hand drawn sign that said “Open kitchen” with a smiley face.  
  
“Ah, I’ll be right back,” Mei said before she walked up a flight of stairs.  
  
Amélie nodded and stepped into the mess hall. It was bright and spacious, lit by four round light pillars. At least two hundred people could comfortably eat in here, but the majority of tables were pushed together in the back and the corresponding chairs were stacked next to them. A long counter stretched across the right side of the room. The sound of an uplifting bassline and meat sizzling in a pan came to Amélie’s ears from behind it. She identified the two aluminum swinging doors with round porthole windows at one end of the counter as the entrance to the kitchen.  
  
When she had almost reached the doors, a metallic voice made her stop.  
  
“Greetings.”  
  
Amélie turned around, freezing in place as she caught sight of a Shambali monk hovering several hand’s widths above a chair next to one of the light pillars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Translations
> 
> Bù hǎo yì si! - I'm sorry!
> 
> ### Notes
> 
> First update in a long time! Rest assured that I won't abandon this. I just had 2 other projects to finish in the meantime and I'm not the fastest writer in the world as you might have guessed. Huge thanks to [twoheartedalien](http://archiveofourown.org/users/twoheartedalien) and [Nox](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheut/pseuds/Nox) for beta-ing!
> 
> As always, feedback is much appreciated.


	10. Acclimatization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Amélie meets new allies and discovers yet more about herself.

“You seem troubled.” The omnic spoke slowly and deliberately, almost in unison with the quiet chimes of the orbs that floated around his neck.  
  
Amélie’s mind raced. She was overwhelmed with suffocating guilt, it stuck to her throat and held it shut. He looked very similar to Mondatta. His head was bare metal and the square of nine blue lights on his forehead wasn’t tilted, and yet she saw those blue lights fizzling out through her scope. She remembered that feeling of satisfaction that had flooded through her that night, and bile rose to her throat.  
  
“Is it the gun’s fault when it is used to kill?” the Omnic said.  
  
The words sounded like a singing bowl in her head, even though they were spoken in the same slightly raspy metallic voice as the rest of them.  
  
“ _Pardon?”_  
  
“Please, sit with me.”  
  
Amélie followed his invitation, not knowing what to expect. She definitely _didn’t_ expect being completely at ease once she’d sat down in one of the mess hall’s slightly uncomfortable chairs.  
  
“I sense great fear within you. Know that I do not hold grudges, for they cloud your mind.” A movement of his hand sent a ripple through the floating orbs. “I am Zenyatta. Peace be upon you.”  
  
“Amélie Lacroix…” She paused. Her head was full of one question that she couldn’t quite place. “What…” she began, but she was interrupted.  
  
An arm that consisted of artificial muscle, metal plating and too many green lights pulled back the chair next to Zenyatta.  
  
“Master, the Orca is back with-” The owner of said arm spotted Amélie sitting at the table and took a deep breath. “Ah. Hello. I am glad you found your way to us.” He sat down, and after a pause, he added: “I am Genji.”  
  
Amélie nodded at him. She’d worked with Reaper before, and while that man was menacing, Genji Shimada was imposing in an entirely different way. He wore no clothes to cover his body, mainly because there wasn’t anything left of a human body to cover, only metal. Amélie held her breath for a second when he took his mask off. Scars marred his face, and a prosthetic jaw sat where his lower jaw would have been.  
  
“Ah, welcome, Genji,” Zenyatta said, “I was just talking to her. I sense that she has trouble finding herself, much like you did.”  
  
Genji nodded once, opening the box he had placed on the table and pulling out a rice ball. It reminded Amélie of the ever growing hole in her stomach.  
  
She didn't want to be impolite and just get up, especially not with Genji glaring at her. She hoped he'd become less hostile, because the Watchpoint was large, but not large enough to be able to avoid someone entirely. She couldn't blame him, though.  
  
"The process of self-discovery can be a tedious one, as I am sure you understand," Zenyatta said. "It is never finished. For the time being, I want to help you feel comfortable with yourself."  
  
Amélie nodded and shifted in her chair, turning her head towards the kitchen. Zenyatta tilted his head.  
  
“Ah, I am sorry. You must be hungry,” he said. “Humans tend to have sociable conversation over food, do they not? I will wait for you.”  
  
“Thank you. I will try to be quick,” Amélie said and rose to excuse herself.  
  
“A warrior’s greatest weapon is patience,” Zenyatta said. “I wonder if the same is true for a cook.”

* * *

Amélie chuckled on the way to the kitchen door. She pushed it open and was promptly hit by the smell of garlic and roasted meat. The person chopping them was a tiny but very muscular black man that was dancing along to a wireless speaker blaring music. He had a tattoo of a stylized frog on his left shoulder and dreadlocks, pulled back into a floppy bun. Amélie couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d seen him somewhere before.  
  
She leaned on a counter and waited for an opportunity to introduce herself, when he noticed her from the corner of his eye.   
  
“Oh, hey!” He turned around holding a cutting board with a pile of chopped red bell peppers. “I’m Lúcio, you must be Amélie. Lena could not stop talking about you.”   
  
_So it is him! He’s even shorter than Lena,_ Amélie thought.   
  
She’d never expected to see him at an Overwatch Watchpoint of all places. Sure, he was an activist and she wouldn’t have been surprised if she was ordered to kill him some time. His sunny attitude pushed that thought aside.  
  
“What are you doing here?” she asked, perhaps a little too accusatory. “I mean, I would expect you to be on tour and not…” She gestured around.   
  
“What does Lena always say? ‘The world could always use more heroes!’” He imitated a British accent. “Nah, but jokes aside, Vishkar wants a piece of me and they’re not gonna get it here.”   
  
Amélie nodded and watched him shove the bell peppers into the pan, which punctuated the addition with a hiss and a plume of vapor.   
_  
_ “So anyways, now that you’re here, wanna help me out real quick?” he asked. “I’m making paella. Should be enough for everyone.”   
  
“Ah. What do you need help with?”   
  
“You could dice these tomatoes into the pan, I’mma go get beans and rice in the meantime.” Lucio walked towards where Amélie assumed the storage room to be. He had a spring in his step, not unlike Lena.   
  
Amélie washed her hands and started chopping the tomatoes. Light synth sounds danced over a driving beat, and she quickly fell into the rhythm of the music that was playing. It was the first time in a long while that she listened to music. Most of what she listened to before she became what she was now had been classical music with a random mix of what had been popular. Pop music had been so meaningless to her that she couldn’t name an artist if she tried. She remembered a few songs, mostly really old French ones. How would you dance to this? The pile of tomatoes became smaller and smaller as she remembered bits and pieces of her days as a ballet dancer.   
  
Amélie was almost done with the last tomato when Lúcio came back. He pushed the door open with his back, as his hands were full.   
  
“Whew, that took a while,” he said. When he noticed the absence of tomatoes on the counter, he smiled. “Good work!” He put what he was carrying aside and handed her a bag of beans. “That can also go in there now.”   
  
She emptied the bag into the pan and washed her hands. “Is there anything else you need help with?”  
  
He grabbed a spatula and spread the vegetables around with practiced movements. “Nah, Am, I’ll take care of the rest. Just gotta let this stew and then add the rice.”   
  
She faltered for a moment, and Lucio seemed to have noticed her unease as he looked up at her. “Ah… was that not okay?”  
  
Amélie shook her head slightly. “I… would prefer Amélie for now, please.”   
  
That hacker, Sombra, called her _araña_ sometimes. Amélie had always thought she did it to mock her, like her handlers did when they called her nicknames. In hindsight, Sombra probably didn’t mean anything by it. Her real name was something she needed to get used to again. Maybe she’d get used to nicknames one day, too.   
  
“Cool, I hear you,” Lúcio said, flashing her a sincere smile.   
  
Amélie nodded gratefully, returning a small smile before she headed back to the mess hall.

* * *

When Amélie sat down at the table again, she could’ve sworn Zenyatta would be raising his brows at her if he had any. "You return without food?" he said.  
  
"Lúcio is sharing his paella. I am hungry, but waiting for it for a few minutes is a small price to pay." She paused. "He knows who I am, and yet he talks to me like we have been friends for a long time."  
  
"He does not care about your past. He cares about why you are here," Zenyatta said. "It is an admirable quality to have, but sadly it has become dangerous to think that way."  
  
Amélie opened her mouth to argue that she wasn't dangerous, but stayed quiet. She wasn't in a position to ask for the benefit of the doubt from someone whose loved one she had killed. Genji shot her a cautionary glance and her mouth fell shut.  
  
"I care about your past," the omnic continued. "I know who you were before you were used and what you were used for. However, I trust that you do not wish to harm any of us. If you did, you would not be sitting here. You are a pragmatic woman." Another wave ran through the orbs around his neck. "I want to help you find yourself. The only way you will overcome your fear of yourself is if you understand it."  
  
Genji's head snapped around at the same speed Amélie's brows shot up. A few seconds passed before she assembled an appropriate response in her head.  
  
"I can't-"  
  
"Master, are-"  
  
Genji lowered his head to Amélie, signalling for her to speak first.  
  
"I can't accept this. You don't need to trouble yourself with me, after what I have done," she said.  
  
After all that she took from him, it would be rude to take even more. She wanted to give, not receive, but what could she give an omnic monk?  
  
"The offer stands," he said. "I cannot force you on the right path, but I can shine a light upon it." He paused and turned his head towards Genji. "You still have a lot to learn. I will not deny help to anyone who needs it, regardless of their past."  
  
The ninja nodded once. His bionic jaw deprived his face of expressions, but Amélie still caught that downward twitch of the corners of his mouth.  
  
The quiet whir of the sliding door signaled the arrival of more agents. Lena quickly found her and sat down next to her. She had ditched the bomber jacket, which revealed a white racerback tank top. Last night Lena had worn a t-shirt, but now Amélie's eyes discovered toned muscles that pulled taut over her narrow shoulders. She wanted to trace along the straps of the top and hold her tight. The scent of a minty shampoo made its way into her nose.  
  
_Not now.  
  
_ Lena gave Amelie’s shoulder a firm squeeze. "And here I was worried you guys were just going ta avoid each other all the time," she said cheerfully.  
  
Amélie didn't want to tell her that that had been her first impulse. The others were mostly occupied talking to each other. Mei opened the lid of a plastic container she had in front of her to reveal something that Amélie assumed were wontons. Hana was talking to Torbjörn about something mech-related and Satya and Morrison were watching the team socialize. Pharah sat next to Angela, as expected, with her arm around Angela's shoulders. She caressed the spot the bullet had gone through earlier. Angela rested her head on Pharah's shoulder and smiled at Amélie when she noticed her looking in her direction. Amélie smiled back briefly before she turned to Lena.  
  
"Zenyatta offered to help me with my past," she said.  
  
Lena's head darted back and forth between her and Zenyatta. "Bloody hell, that's amazing! You should totally- thank you so much!" She could barely contain her excitement. "Ya know, he helped me too after I, er, wasn't exactly solid."  
  
"He did?" Amélie said, shifting in her seat to sit up straighter.  
  
"I did. It has been one of the more illuminating experiences." It seemed as if he slightly hopped in the air above the chair. "Human life has an intriguing perspective on time."  
  
The kitchen doors flew open and Ana and Lúcio came through, followed by Reinhardt. While the hulking German heaved the steaming pan onto the table, Ana and Lúcio distributed cutlery and plates. Soon enough, the chatting was replaced with the sound of spoons scooping steaming hot paella from white ceramic plates. It was delicious and exactly what Amélie needed.

* * *

The afternoon was decidedly less violent than the morning, but still exhausting enough. Lena was an amazing tour guide through the rest of the Watchpoint. She was more than eager to show her around all the nooks and crannies of the complex, along with some breathtaking views. Empty shuttle launch pads pointed skywards, and between them the sea splashed against the steep cliffs. In one of the far corners, Winston's office overlooked several other buildings with a widely arced, reflective window. The aftermath of Reaper's attack was still visible inside in the form of a gaping, jagged hole in the curved window behind the gorilla's desk. The rest of the buildings were in surprisingly good shape, considering Overwatch was officially disbanded.  
  
When they arrived in the command center building, Lena grinned even wider as she opened another door.  
  
"C'mere, I want to show ya something," she said as she flipped the light switch.  
  
Amélie gingerly took a few steps inside and looked back at Lena, who was now standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips.  
  
"An auditorium?" Amélie asked.  
  
"Look a bit closer!"  
  
The first row of seats had been replaced with a cobbled together set of couches and a mini fridge was plugged into the socket under the teacher's podium.  
  
"It's got a huge screen and a brilliant sound system. We could watch a film here some day if you like," Lena said excitedly.  
  
"I think I’ll like that."  
  
Amélie wondered what kind of movie Lena would want to watch with her and how she would like it. There was something else to it though. Watching movies together usually involved sitting together in a dark room, and those couches looked very comfortable.

* * *

Lena dropped her off at the med bay soon after. With all the scanners and data loggers, Angela could finally give her a full medical examination. After she'd double-checked every reading, she finally concluded that Talon didn't plant any devices inside Amélie's body. They both let out a sigh of relief, but Angela quickly regained her professional countenance and handed Amélie a small device with a wrist-strap.  
  
"Here. Please keep this on from now on. It will monitor your vital signs more accurately than Athena can." She paused until Amélie examined how the device looked on her arm with an appraising look on her face. "I know you don't like medical procedures, but I'd like to have you here every two days at least. I want to make sure your... condition is stable."  
  
Amélie wasn't surprised at all. She had already suspected something like this. The idea of being monitored this closely reminded her of the days before Talon started keeping her in Château Guillard, her family's old estate, like a tarantula in a terrarium. This time though, it was for an entirely different reason. She was a person now, not someone's science project.   
  
" _D'accord_ ," she said.  
  
The simple fact that Angela _asked_ her to put the strap on and show up at the med bay regularly was already enough for her to agree. Angela didn't worry about having to answer to Talon leadership for a failed assignment, she worried about Amélie's well-being.  
  
The rest of the day flew past in a rush and almost made her forget what happened in the morning. After an extended shower in her own bathroom that most people would probably call lukewarm rather than hot, she climbed into her bed and stretched her arms in front of her, towards the ceiling. This was her space. Nobody would intrude on her privacy without her permission. Faint white moonlight that reflected off the calm sea trickled in between the gaps in the shutters, forming a pattern on the wall that danced around with the gentle waves. It reminded her of the freckles on Lena’s face. Amélie adored them, just like that head of windswept hair and that bubbly laugh. She drifted off into sleep thinking about Lena’s concentrated expression in the Orca.

* * *

The view the shutters revealed each morning when she opened them was beginning to feel less and less surreal in the following week. Overwatch followed a steady schedule on the watchpoint with training sessions and meetings and Amélie had her own things to attend to on the watchpoint. She didn't particularly look forward to Angela's routine check-ups, but they showed the same data day after day. Angela took them as an opportunity to talk about the past, careful not to touch on topics that were still painful. While Amélie was sparing with words, she was almost indifferent talking about the person she'd been before. The old Amélie had been a ray of sunshine, always considering her own problems last and always walking through life with a smile on her lips. The new Amélie knew she'd probably never be that person again. She worried how the people who knew the old her would cope with that fact. Lena didn't know her from before, but she must have heard stories. Amélie wondered which version of her Lena would like better.  
  
After a few days, she sought out Zenyatta for the first time. Initially, she didn't think much of sitting around in silence, staring out over the sea. It took a while until being alone with her thoughts suddenly made sense to her. Minutes stretching into hours wasn't such a bad thing after all. She tried figuring out who she really was now, and who she wanted to be. Lena participated in their meditation sometimes and in the talks that followed, listening intently. Zenyatta helped her pinpoint her internal quarrels and untangle the mess of feelings and ideas in her head. He and Lena were both astonished by her accounts of what Talon had sown in her mind to keep her subjugated, a toxic cocktail of the views of a madman, sociopathic beliefs, a dependency on validation and a pinch of self-doubt. It seemed absurd to her now; not a sliver of it made sense. Talon was dangerous and needed to be stopped, and not just for what they did to her.  
  
As she felt herself drawn to Lena more and more, Gérard popped back into her thoughts. They'd had some rough times together, sure, but overall the years she spent with him were a series of fond, if somewhat distant, memories. She'd visited his grave before, but never for longer than a minute. Looking back at it, she could almost see her conditioning at work. The memory of his murder was still tainted with sticky artificial euphoria, like a glued on filter. She didn't consider herself sentimental, but she wanted to apologize to him, even if she knew deep down it wasn't her fault.  
  
All of this went through her head when she approached Morrison's office. She'd never been there before, but she passed the auditorium Lena showed her when she arrived on her way.  
  
She knocked.  
  
"Morrison?"  
  
"Come in," his rough voice grumbled from behind the door.  
  
Amélie entered and found herself in an office that you could have easily fit three more modestly sized offices in. There was a wall of screens, all showing various news channels from around the world. One side of the room was dedicated to a sizable desk with two chairs in front of it. On the other side, two couches stood opposing each other with a coffee table in the middle.  
  
Morrison gestured at one of the chairs at his desk. Amélie sat down on the edge of the chair and folded her hands in her lap. He picked his mug up.  
  
"What do you want to talk about?" he asked.  
  
She took a second to put her request into words. " _Si je peux me permettre de demander_ ," she said, "I would very much like to go to Annecy to visit the old house… and Gérard's grave."  
  
Morrison took a long swig of coffee. His brows furrowed and he leaned back in his chair.  
  
"I'll think about it. You understand we cannot let you leave alone, for a variety of reason I’m sure you’re aware of. I think it'd be a liability even if you had company, but I'll talk about it with the others, too." His middle and index fingers tapped a rhythm on the handle of his mug.  
  
"I wouldn't go alone, I agree," Amélie added.  
  
"Yeah, but I can't just order one of us to go with you. You can try asking people," he said, finally setting the mug down.  
  
"I will.  _Merci_."  
  
"Did you have anything else you wanted to talk about?"  
  
Amélie got up from her chair. "No, that was all."

* * *

When she left the command building, Lena was waiting for her outside dressed in sportswear. She had a towel draped around her neck.  
  
"Hiya! Had a chat with the old stick-in-the-mud?" she asked with a big smile.  
  
Amélie loved seeing her like this. It instantly brightened her day and she could feel the tension fall from her face.  
  
“Yes. I want to visit Gérard's grave. Morrison told me I need someone to come with me," she said.  
  
"I'll come with ya!" Lena blurted out without missing a beat. "I bet it's lovely in southern France this time of year."  
  
Amélie was still thinking of an appropriate response when Lena continued.  
  
"Speaking of… do you want to watch a film with me tonight? I've got one I think you'll like." Just a hint of nervousness showed through her bubbly demeanor.  
  
They did a lot together on the watchpoint, like training and sometimes cooking, but this was the first time Lena had invited her to do anything.  
  
" _Bien sûr_ ," Amélie said with a widening smile on her lips.  
  
She would've said yes even if Lena had just asked to hang out and talk about random things. Most people on the watchpoint were genuinely nice and good company, but Lena was something else. Back in London Amélie thought that maybe those feelings would fade, but they hadn't. If anything, they'd grown stronger.  
  
"Brilliant! I know you have shooting practice now, but how about we stop by the kitchen to grab a bite when you're done with that?" Lena asked. "Then we can watch 'I think, therefore Ian.' I hope you'll like it, it's one of my favorites!"  
  
"Ah, I'd like to change before we watch," Amélie said.  
  
"Yeah, good idea." Lena took the towel off her neck. "See you then, I need to take a bloody shower..."  
  
Amélie nodded and watched Lena disappear around a corner. It had been a while since she'd watched a movie with someone.

* * *

Firing practice flew by without her missing a single target. When she walked into the observation room overlooking the range, she found Ana and Lena inside.  
  
"Good work," Ana said. "Though it's a bit frightening how mechanical it looks."  
  
Lena had changed into shorts and a too large t-shirt that hung off her left shoulder. Her accelerator bunched the fabric up around her chest. It said something on the front, but the device made it unreadable.  
  
"I think it's impressive, but I'm glad you're on our side now," she said, scratching her head.  
  
_I am, too.  
  
_ "I'll go change. Meet me in the kitchen?" Amélie suggested.  
  
Lena nodded enthusiastically.

* * *

The smell of melting cheese and tomato sauce greeted her when she entered the kitchen. Lena sat on a stool at one of the counters and played with her phone. She lit up when she spotted Amélie.  
  
"Hey! I shoved some pizza in the oven, if that's alright with you," she said.  
  
"Pizza is fine." Amélie pulled up another stool.  
  
There had been days where she'd lived entirely off of supplements. Frozen pizza was a luxury compared to that, and pizza was rarely if ever bad.  
  
"So, what is 'I think, therefore Ian' about?" she asked.  
  
Lena opened her mouth to answer, but her phone buzzed loudly on the metal counter. She shut the alarm off, got the steaming pizza out of the oven and cut it into slices.  
  
"I wasn't sure if you wanted tuna or pepperoni, so I made both." She picked up a slice and paused for a second. "Well, 'made' is a big word, but you know what I mean."  
  
Amélie watched her take a big bite and picked up a slice of her own, careful not to get any grease on her fingers. "So, what's the movie about?" The pizza was pretty good for something that came out of the freezer.  
  
"Hm?" Lena swallowed. "Oh, yeah. It's about a girl making friends with a robot and they help each other out. It's really cute."  
  
"Don't tell me too much, Lena."  
  
Lena made a face. "Well, you asked! Anyways, it was really controversial when it came out, what with the omnic crisis and all." She devoured another slice.  
  
"Would it surprise you that there are omnics in Talon,  _chérie_?" Amélie asked.  
  
"Are you having a laugh? Really? I thought they bloody hated omnics after what they did." A piece of pepperoni fell off the slice of pizza Lena was holding.  
  
"Some of them are high ranking, too." Images of an omnic with a gunmetal gray body and red forehead lights came to Amélie's mind.  
  
"I s'pose there’s some right bastards in this world, humans and omnic," Lena grumbled.  
  
Amélie took a napkin and wiped her mouth and offered one to Lena. "I'm glad I'm not with the 'right bastards' anymore, then," she said, smiling. "Shall we watch a movie?"  
  
Lena put on a serious face. "We shall, Madame." She started giggling.

* * *

It was chilly in the auditorium in the evening. Luckily there was a pile of blankets on one of the couches. Amélie threw several of them over to the couch in the middle and made herself comfortable while Lena fired up the projector and the AV terminal.  
  
"It's only gonna take a minute," she announced.  
  
"Don't rush, we have time," Amélie said.  
  
Lena impatiently fumbled with the terminal and blew a strand of hair out of her face. Warmth welled through Amélie’s body, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.   
  
_Adorable.  
  
_ When the projector finally illuminated the screen, Lena turned the lights off and returned to the couch. Before she sat down, she casually undid the straps of her accelerator and set it down next to the couch.  
  
The purple in Amélie's face turned several shades darker.  
  
Now that the device was removed, Lena's oversized t-shirt fell loosely over her chest, revealing soft curves. Amélie was sure she must've been staring, but Lena didn't notice and sat down next to her. Amélie moved her left arm from being uncomfortably wedged between them to the backrest and Lena leant against her shoulder.  
  
_Ba-bump.  
  
_ "Okay, here we go. I would've gotten snacks, but Reinhardt really doesn't like crumbs in the cushions," Lena said.  
  
" _Ne t'en fais pas,_ " Amélie said quietly, pulling her legs onto the couch and handing Lena one of the blankets.  
  
The movie had an adorable art style. Amélie was sure she’d seen posters of the main characters before. The last time she had seen an animated movie must have been when she was a child. She didn’t dislike it though, and even if she did, Lena was still next to her.  
  
Lena cried quietly during one of the more emotional scenes. Small tears ran over her freckles, reflecting the blue light of the screen.  
  
"I should've brought some bloody tissues," Lena whispered.  
  
Amélie's hand found its way onto Lena's shoulder and pulled her closer. 

* * *

Lena's tears had dried already when the big celebration scene at the end came up. Amélie couldn't focus on it at all, the big brown eyes shining with happiness next to her had all of her attention. She was vaguely aware of the epilogue playing out on the screen in front of her, but all she could really see was Lena.  
  
The credits started to roll across the screen. Soft, hopeful music played in the background.  
  
"Well, that was it. How'd you like it?" Lena asked.  
  
"I liked it, it was adorable," Amélie said, not certain herself if she was talking about the movie or the woman in her arms.  
  
Lena attempted to get up, but Amélie gently grabbed her arm and got her to sit down again. While Lena blinked at her quizzically, she remembered what Angela told her:  
  
_Just do what feels right.  
  
_ Amélie leant forward and ever so slightly touched Lena's lips with her own. Her heart probably hadn't beaten this fast in years. Lena's eyes widened.  
  
"Are you su—"  
  
She could barely get the words out before Amélie kissed her again, this time more confidently. Lena brushed a strand of hair behind Amélie's ear. Lena's lips felt soft and warm against hers and she still smelled like soap and rain. Amélie put her hands on Lena's cheeks when they separated briefly - they were hot under her palms. Chestnut eyes studied her face as Lena pulled her close, pressing their bodies together. Amélie gasped  before she found Lena's lips again for another kiss. She let her tongue run along them, tasting smoldering raspberries. A warm feeling spread through her body, cozy and familiar, and suddenly it was too much.  
  
It was all too familiar, too similar to the afterglow of a kill.  
  
She pulled her head back and leapt up from the couch when a wave of repugnance and guilt washed over her, leaving Lena. Seeing her biting her lower lip and with tight, worried eyes didn't help at all with the thoughts racing through her head.  
  
" _Je suis vraiment désolée_ , I- I can't right now." Amélie had to fight the words to come out of her mouth, and even then it was more of a whisper than anything else.  
  
She hurried out of the auditorium and back to her room, disappointed by herself and angry at Talon.  
  
What would Lena think of her?  
  
What was going to become of them?  
  
She found herself in front of her bathroom mirror. Cold tears ran down her cheeks. She watched them collect at her chin and drop into the sink. She splashed some water in her face and returned to her room. Her terminal flashed with a new message. It could only have come from one person. The memory from the rooftops of King’s Row suddenly popped into her head with a distraught and angry Lena yelling at her.  
  
_Why would I do this?_ _  
__  
_ It was no use wondering whether or not she’d just destroyed their relationship. She could not avoid reading that message or running into Lena forever. Her finger hovered over the touchscreen for a second before she took a deep breath and opened the message.  
  
**LENA:** _Want to talk about this tomorrow morning over breakfast? I'll be in the kitchen at 9. I'm not mad <3  
  
_Amélie stared at it. That was it, she wasn't going to let Talon ruin this, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Translations
> 
> Si je peux me permettre de demander - if I may ask
> 
> ### Notes
> 
> So this took a while... Life happened, and there were a few other projects I needed to finish before I could continue here. This chapter has been ready to post for almost half a year, but I stuck to having a two-chapter buffer. I hope I'll be able to update more frequently, but I can't guarantee anything. I'm grateful for anyone who's still reading and waiting for updates!


	11. Clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Amélie's world suddenly gets a lot brighter.

Amélie had a hard time falling asleep. Laying awake for hours, she rolled around on her bed, unable to find a comfortable position, thinking about that feeling of warm bliss, the kiss she shared with Lena.  
  
And how similar it was to the afterglow of a kill.  
  
She tried to compare those feelings, but as frustrating as it was, she couldn’t. Why was Lena as understanding as she was? It would be completely reasonable if she didn't want to talk to her anymore, after what she did. If Lena kissed her and then ran off in the middle of it, Amélie knew she'd be disappointed. Angry, even. That was what people felt when things like that happened, wasn't it? And yet, Lena was just so lovely about it. Which made Amélie want to try even harder. Eventually, her eyes gave up trying to stay open, and she drifted into a restless slumber.  
  
She didn't get much sleep. A glance at her alarm showed 6:51 AM. Two hours and nine minutes to go until Lena wanted to talk, two hours of time to kill. Amélie let her head flop back into the pillow and rubbed her hands over her face. What was she going to tell her? She did it because it had felt right, because she wanted to, but was that enough?  
  
Half an hour later, Amélie had showered, dressed herself and made her bed for good measure. After another half hour of not knowing what to do with herself, she made her way to the kitchen. If they were going to meet there, they might as well have something nice to eat.  
  
At first, she'd only planned making crêpes for the two of them, but after a second of consideration, she decided to make a larger batch. The first few turned out to be either too thin or too thick, but soon, a formidable stack formed. Even then, Amélie still had a few minutes to go. She turned words over in her head; things she wanted to say. An apology would be in order, and maybe even a confession. But what would she confess? Lena did something to her, made her feel a warm sense of comfort and belonging she couldn't place. She didn't know what to call it yet, but maybe she didn't need to.  
  
Whatever words Amélie had laid out in her head went right out of the window when Lena walked in. She stretched and yawned, offering a tired smile.  
  
"Morning, luv." Even though she looked like she hadn't slept much either, her eyes immediately darted to the plate on the counter. "Did you make those crayps?"  
  
Amélie stood up from her seat. "That's ' _crêpes_ '."  
  
Lena's brows furrowed and her nose wrinkled as she tried to correct herself. "Krps?"  
  
" _Crêpes_." Amelie corrected her with a faint smile on her lips. She had to admit that Lena's mispronunciation was oddly endearing. "Good morning, Lena. Help yourself."  
  
"Oh thanks, I'm starving. I could kiss you right now," Lena said, and paused and laughed sheepishly. "Which is why we have to talk, really." Her eyes flicked between Amélie and the plate in her hand. "Eat first?"  
  
Amélie nodded, so they sat down together at the counter and ate, the silence only broken by Lena complimenting Amélie's cooking with a full mouth. After Lena decided not to get a sixth helping, she stacked their plates, shoved them aside, and pulled her chair closer to Amélie's. She took a deep breath, and folded her hands in her lap, still fidgeting.  
  
"Right, who goes first?" she asked.  
  
Amélie cleared her throat. "I... I think I should apologize." She spoke slowly, looking at her knees, still uncertain how to phrase what she wanted to say. "I didn't know... Kissing you felt too much like confirming a kill, I had to stop, it was too much. I felt horrible after, I thought you might hate me," she said, before making eye contact. "Around you, I feel this attraction. I haven't felt this way in a long time, and never for a woman. I am afraid to lose you, Lena."  
  
With wide brown eyes, Lena took in Amélie's words. She took a moment to consider, before she took Amélie's hands into her own.  
  
“Why would I hate you for that?" she asked. "If you don't want to kiss anymore, that’s more than okay." She shifted in her seat. "I have something to tell you, too. The flirting I did... That wasn't only to get your emotions out. I meant the things I said. I just thought you weren't into women, ya know." Lena paused, searching Amélie's face. "Saying that I've got a bit of a crush on you would be an understatement, but I figured I'd be the best friend to you I could be." A cautious smile flashed across her face. "But the cat's out of the bag now, isn't it? I really don't want to push you to do something you don't want, so I guess it depends on you—"  
  
"I want to try," Amélie said.  
  
No more hesitation. I won't give up. I won't give them that victory.  
  
Lena's cheeks flushed. "Remember when I told you I could kiss you right now?"  
  
" _Oui._ "  
  
"I'd really like to kiss you, if that's okay," Lena said, furrowing her brows. "You can always tell me to stop. Always."  
  
With excitement bubbling up inside her, Amélie nodded.  
  
Lena got up from her chair and leant in, tilting Amélie's chin up with one hand and cradling her head with the other. When their lips touched, it was soft, gentle, _electric_. The familiar sensation came back, but she was prepared now. It was so much stronger and more palpable than it had ever been after she pulled the trigger. As they separated, Amélie found herself sighing happily, slinging her arms around Lena's neck, pulling her close.  
  
"Wait a second," Lena giggled, climbing onto Amélie's lap, "let me make this more comfortable." She rested her forehead against Amélie's. "You're a brilliant kisser, luv," she said.  
  
Their noses brushed against each other, and Lena smiled against Amélie's lips, drawing a satisfied hum from Amélie's throat. When they deepened the kiss, Amélie tasted strawberries and cream, her fingers running through Lena's hair. It was much softer than it looked, and Amélie was fascinated with the short fuzz on the back of Lena's head. A blissful warmth spread through her, making her tingle.  
  
Compared to this closeness, killing felt empty, synthetic.  
  
With Lena sitting in her arms, a pang of worry welled up in her. The memories from her life before Talon felt like another person's, and those that included Gérard reminded her how different things were with Lena. There was no question that the old Amélie had loved Gérard and that he had loved her, but it felt disconnected, like she couldn't apply it to the present, to Lena. Attentive as she was, Lena noticed her internal struggle.  
  
"You okay?" she hummed as she searched Amélie’s face, looking for whatever emotion she could be feeling. "I'll stop this if you want to."  
  
"No, it's just... I fear I might have to get used to this." Amélie looked straight into Lena's warm eyes. "I don't want to disappoint you."  
  
"You won't. We'll tackle everything as it comes up, yeah? I won't pressure you into anything, I promise," Lena said. Her hands slowly ran up and down Amélie's back, stopping just above her hips, not going any lower.  
  
If there was ever a doubt in Amélie's head that it was the wrong decision to trust Lena, it was gone now. "Mhm, let's figure things out together." Amélie gave Lena another quick kiss. "What does that make us, _chérie?_ "  
  
"I reckon 'girlfriends' would fit the bill, wouldn't it?" Lena said with a wide grin on her face.  
  
_Girlfriends_ , Amélie thought. _I have a girlfriend_.  
  
Not too long ago, she had asked herself if she even deserved to be treated like a person. Now she could call someone as amazing as Lena her girlfriend. "It would." Amélie paused for a second, mulling the thought over in her head. " _Ma petite amie._ "  
  
Lena's eyes widened and the blush behind the freckles dotting her cheeks became even more intense. The hands on Amélie's back stopped moving. "Have I ever told you that it's bloody hot when you speak French?" Lena stammered. "I should probably learn some French. Seems like a really good idea, that."  
  
Amélie gave a soft chuckle and opened her mouth to speak, but the sound of the kitchen doors swinging open accompanied by a drawn-out yawn interrupted her. Hana had walked in, her eyes barely open and her long, brown hair standing off in all directions.  
  
"Hello, Hana," Amélie said, a sympathetic smile on her lips.  
  
Groaning groggily, Hana stretched. "'Morning, Amélie," she mumbled, before she froze in place mid-stretch and her eyes shot open as she became aware of what happened right in front of her. "Oookay, I'm awake now." With a few quick steps, she was at the counter and sat down opposite Amélie and Lena, leaning half over it. "Since when?"  
  
Lena sighed and drew her brows together. "There really isn't a point in hiding this, is there?" she asked. "Kinda hoped we could have a conversation about when we tell people."  
  
"I don't see a point in hiding, either," Amélie said with a quick glance at Hana. "People would notice soon enough."  
  
Hana perked up in feigned indignation. "Hey, I can keep a secret!" she declared.  
  
Amélie wondered if there was a story behind that, and sure enough, Lena spoke up. "Oh, you can, when it's important. But remember when Ree an' Ange got together?"  
  
"Yeah," Hana sighed, with a frown on her face.  
  
"You know we all love you, but you almost like spreading relationship rumors as much as video games," Lena said, winking at her.  
  
It took a second for Hana to bounce back, but her frown turned into a conspiratorial grin again. "So, when?"  
  
Lena turned her head back to face Amélie and cocked it slightly. "Well, ya kissed me yesterday, but officially—just now, I guess," she said. "Still can't really believe it."  
  
Hana slammed her hands on the table. "Wait, I'm the first to know? Oh Em Gee. Oh, and congratulations, I'm sure you'll make a great couple, you're so cute together! I—" she sat back down, "I'll stop gushing now. I'm just so excited and happy for you!"  
  
Amélie gave a deep chuckle, making Lena rock on her lap. "So excited that you missed the stack of _crêpes_ on the table," she said, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Wait, what?" Hana quickly scanned the counter and jumped off her chair to fetch a plate once she found it.  
  
Lena reluctantly got off Amélie's lap. She stepped around the chair, slung her arms around Amélie's neck. A small voice cried alarm in Amélie's head, but Lena's cheek rubbing against hers drowned it in warmth.  
  
Lena gave her a quick peck on the cheek and her breath hitched in her throat. Now that they knew this was much more than a friendship, it was as if Lena had been freed, releasing her pent up affection, still careful not to overwhelm Amélie. It made Amélie tingle with anticipation of spending more time with her.  
  
Suddenly Lena pulled away, and Amélie looked up at her like a cat someone just stopped petting.  
  
"What'cha lookin' at, luv?" Lena giggled.  
  
The last time she'd asked her that, they were shooting at each other a split second later. Amélie liked her much better up close and not making her dodge bullets. Before she knew it, she gave a wide smile. "My girlfriend," she said.  
  
Lena's face flushed, and she gave Amélie a kiss on the forehead.  
  
_My girlfriend,_ Amélie thought. _Mine._  
  
_I will go to Annecy with her._ That realization just hit, and all of a sudden the trip became much more than just visiting Gérard's grave, getting closure. She wanted to show Lena more of herself, of her childhood home.  
  
Hana slumped down in her chair and broke the brief silence. "Those were great, just what I needed this morning."  
  
Hana’s voice ripped Amélie out of her brief daydream of locations to visit and sights to see. She slowly began to understand what Angela was talking about when she told her it was nice to be appreciated.  
  
" _De rien,_ " Amélie said. "Lena... _Ma chére_..." She weighed the sound of the word, decided it fit. "We still need to see Morrison."  
  
"Oh right," Lena said and put their dirty dishes in the dishwasher. "I said I'd come with you, but the old man doesn't know yet, does he?"  
  
Hana perked up. The lure of more relationship gossip was stronger than the desire to be comfortable. "Come where? Are you going somewhere?" she asked, eager to soak up information.  
  
Amélie let out an amused huff. "I want to visit Gérard's grave. Morrison said I couldn't go alone," she explained and got up. "He should be in his office by now."  
  
A knowing smile appeared on Hana's face and she raised her eyebrows. "Oho, you're going to France? Together?" There was a suggestive tone in her voice that peeved Amélie, but two could play that game.  
  
" _Oui_ ," she purred, looking directly into Hana's eyes, "and if you were—say, twenty percent?— less nosy, we might tell you about it when we come back."  
  
Much to Amélie's gratification, Hana's cheeks assumed a healthy red color. "But it's okay if people know, right?" Hana asked. "Just want to make sure."  
  
"Yeah," Lena said. "They'd find out anyways. Let's pop in by 'Soldier Seventy-Six' then!" She imitated his voice as she said his alias. "Later, Hana!"

* * *

When the building's door shut behind them, Amélie was fairly sure Hana was out of earshot. It still didn't sink in completely, but looking down into Lena's face with those warm brown eyes and that reassuring smile helped. She was still smiling herself.  
  
"She called us cute," Amélie said, fiddling with her ponytail, suddenly unsure how to behave around Lena. "It's... been a while since someone called me that."  
  
"Oh, I've got to fix that at the double," Lena said. "You're terribly cute. And elegant." She paused for a second, looking away nervously before adding: "And to be quite honest, so hot that it's unfair."  
  
Amélie's head buzzed with things to say about Lena, but she couldn't choose, so she quickly ran out of time before the pause of dialogue started feeling awkward. "I—thank you. You are adorable." She was certain she was blushing.  
  
They started walking, but it didn't feel like enough. Too far apart, not close enough. She glanced at Lena's hand, remembered Gérard's arm wrapped around her waist. That was a thing couples did, she recalled, and she wondered if she'd like it.  
  
"Would you like to hold hands?" Lena asked, as if she could read her mind.  
  
Amélie wordlessly took Lena's hand, intertwining their fingers. It was smaller than her own, but warm and delicate. Strong, too, Amélie learned as Lena gave her hand a squeeze.  
  
After a few steps with their hands linked together, Lena started giggling. "We are so cheesy right now. I love it!" She bumped into Amélie playfully, who couldn't help but chuckle.

* * *

The smell of coffee wafted through Morrison's half-open office door, mixed with a bit of sweat. When Amélie knocked on the door frame and peered in, she found him sitting on one of the couches, holding a tablet in one hand and his mug in the other. His brows were furrowed, his eyes quickly scanning over a document. She wondered if his forehead was stuck like that.  
  
" _Bonjour,_ " Amélie said to make her presence known again.  
  
Morrison's head snapped around. "Hm? Oh, Lacroix." He put the tablet down. "Come in, have a seat."  
  
Lena let go of Amélie's hand when they walked in and greeted him with a cheery "Morning, Jack!" before she let herself fall onto the couch, inviting Amélie to sit next to her.  
  
Morrison's eyes followed her closely as Amélie sat down, showing a hint of surprise when Lena leant against her. The couch's padding was firmer than expected, comfortable enough but not quite allowing lazy posture.  
  
"What did you want to talk about?" Morrison asked, relaxing ever so slightly, eyes still stern.  
  
He hadn't been this tense when they last talked, and Amélie asked herself if the reason was the way she acted around Lena now. "You told me to find someone to go to Annecy with me," she said.  
  
"That's right," Morrison said. "I'm guessing that's why Lena's here." There was an air of unease about him that seemed to affect Lena, too.  
  
"Yes. She offered to accompany me," Amélie said. She hadn't thought about it before, but what would she do if Morrison didn't allow her to go? There was no doubt that he'd try to stop her by force of arms if necessary.  
  
Lena sat up next to her. "I did. The rescue was my idea, now I'll take responsibility if this goes wrong, too," she said. "Not that I think anything will go wrong, obviously," she added with an affectionate glance towards Amélie.  
  
Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Morrison let out a sigh, before he grabbed his tablet. After he scrolled through some files in silence for a few moments that Amélie used to find Lena's hand again, he looked up at them with the sort of look a father would give his daughter before telling her to have fun, but not go away too far and be back for dinner.  
  
"Alright. This is actually convenient, Lena can fly the Orca. Here's what I want you to do: You won't stay in Annecy for long, you'll stay in Geneva and get a rental car to drive to France. There's a chance Talon might be monitoring Annecy, I don't want to take any more unnecessary risks. You can take the old Orca, just tell me when you depart," he explained. "Was there anything else?"  
  
His plan seemed reasonable, and he was right about Talon monitoring Annecy. As much as it pained her, Amélie wouldn't be able to show Lena the old Château, at least not up close.  
  
"No, that was all," she said. "Thank you."  
  
She got up from the couch, but when Lena wanted to follow, Morrison interjected.  
  
"Lena, I'd like a word with you." When Amélie looked at him quizzically, he waved at her dismissively. "You can go, Lacroix."  
  
Amélie decided not to start an argument about trust, and smiled at Lena when she closed the door behind her. The wink Lena shot back almost made her want to giggle like a little girl.

* * *

It was a slow day. The only scheduled activity was training in the afternoon and it was still relatively early in the day, so Amélie figured she'd kill some time sorting her thoughts. The landing of a staircase that wrapped around a supply building near Winston's office had become her favorite spot for that. Barely anyone used it, and there was nothing that obstructed her view of the sea. She sat down on the smooth concrete in a spot where the wind left her hair alone and straightened her back, closing her eyes. One by one, she isolated the noises of her surroundings. The crashing of the waves against the rocks, seagulls cawing, a steel cable rattling against a flagpole in the wind.  
  
She examined her feelings. There was an underlying hope and confidence about the future, accompanied by the corresponding worries. She didn't feel stressed or pressured, but she had a drive of her own now. A few weeks ago it had just been a desire for revenge, but that was now a welcome byproduct of preventing Talon from doing to anyone else what they'd done to her.  
  
Above all things though, the almost annoying uncertainty about her feelings towards Lena was gone. The direction was clear now, but Amélie didn't want to take it as a given just yet. So far, she really liked it.  
  
She decided to follow that train of thought back to what Lena said— 'figuring things out together'. Given that this relationship was one enormous first for her, Amélie came to the conclusion that they'd need to do a lot of that. She didn't even know how this modified body of hers would react to certain things, and how she'd feel about it. Thinking about Lena's kisses made her let out a happy sigh, and while she was annoyed that it broke her concentration at first, she came to a realization that filled her with joy. Lena was hyperactive, bubbly and sometimes even an annoyance. But now she was her annoyance, and Amélie had come to appreciate her lively nature.  
  
"Greetings." Genji's voice came out of nowhere.  
  
Amélie's eyes snapped open and she shot up to her feet before she relaxed again. "Hello," she said. The stories about him sneaking up on people were true, after all.  
  
The cyborg leant on the guardrail and looked at his feet, letting the mechanisms in his forearms click. He took a deep breath before he spoke. "I think I need to talk to you... Amélie," he said, his tone contrite. That was the first time he ever used her first name. "After some meditation, I… think an apology is in order. "  
  
Amélie crossed her arms and leant against the wall, waiting for him to continue.  
  
Genji looked up at her. "I was wrong about you. I don't think we are so different, you and I." He let out a chuckle that was slightly metallic. "Well, for different reasons, but still. I'm sorry," he said, bowing deeply.  
  
"Apology accepted," Amélie said with an amused huff. "To be perfectly honest, I'm still not sure why so many of you were so... hospitable."  
  
He relaxed back onto the guardrail. "I will have your back in the field," he said. "Hana just told me something."  
  
There it was. Athena couldn't have spread the news faster, announcing them over the PA system. "I can guess what," Amélie said.  
  
"I have been friends with Lena for a long time now. I thought it would be good if I could be friends with her girlfriend too," he said, holding a hand out after a moment of consideration. "Genji Shimada."  
  
Amélie pushed off the wall she was leaning on and grabbed his hand. "Amélie Lacroix," she said with a smile on her face.  
  
His handshake was cautious—as if he was afraid to crush her— and electrically lukewarm.  
  
If he actually liked her or not, knowing that he was making an effort to understand her better was comforting. Especially now that she was dating Lena.  
  
A small rock clattering against the wall of the building alerted them both to Lena walking down the path to Winston's lab at a brisk pace, her arms crossed. The bounce in her step was gone. It made Amélie's stomach drop, seeing her like this.  
  
"Ah, it looks like the old man got to her again," Genji said. "They do not often talk without disagreement. Sometimes I wonder if you can call it talking anymore."  
  
Amélie wordlessly stepped past him and gave him a short wave. Lena was upset, and Amélie wanted to know why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Translations:
> 
> ma petite amie - my girlfriend (literally: my little friend... why do I get Scarface vibes now?)
> 
> ### Notes:
> 
> Whew, this was an important chapter, and I was itching to get it out there.
> 
> The scene in the beginning with the crêpes was inspired by [this vine](http://mimiadraws.tumblr.com/post/150798907270/based-on-this-vine). The idea for that has been in my head for half a year or more :D


End file.
